


Wings

by kazenezumi123, Whatsinthebasement



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Bickering, Blood, Calamity, Cute Couples, Cute overload, Drinking, Drugs, F/F, F/M, Feels, Fighting, Guilt, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor gods AU, Sadness, Smut, Stress, Violence, boys' night out, field trip!, instability, mild depression, phobia!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-30
Updated: 2017-06-03
Packaged: 2018-03-04 07:37:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 99,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2999297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazenezumi123/pseuds/kazenezumi123, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whatsinthebasement/pseuds/Whatsinthebasement
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean is the god of calamity. Well, he prefers to be called the god of misfortune, but same difference. He’s tired of watching his mortal friends die, and being stuck with his annoying immortal friends. But maybe meeting a stranger will lead to something Jean thought would never be possible: love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Downpour

                After a couple of years in the same place, you begin to feel comfortable, almost as if you belonged there. After a couple of decades, that same place that had once caught your attention, the place you considered your home, becomes boring and dull. After hundreds of years, after your spectrum of that “place” grew to be the entire world, you would think that you would never find it boring. Of course, the people in it changed, so did their ideas and even their languages, but in the end they were all the same. Humans were truly difficult creatures; they were hypocritical, delusional, desperate, selfish, and pitiable, but also creative, deviant, kind, trustworthy, and sometimes admirable. Of course, it was a wide spectrum that even the upper gods failed to understand, much less Jean himself. However, this is what he had learned in his two hundred or so years of hanging around this god-forsaken place called Earth. Don’t get the wrong idea, it’s not like Jean hated humans with a burning passion, it was simply a heavy dislike; he had made hundreds of thousands of friends and acquaintances over the years, but there was one thing that Jean could not forgive humans for. Make that two things; the fact that they have constantly forsaken themselves over the course of history, and the fact that they die. Of course, the second one wasn’t really in their control, but Jean couldn’t really contemplate the concept of death considering he couldn’t die. That being said, Jean also lacked the ability to keep track of time, but apparently he was the only person with that problem among his peers. He would lose track of hours, even months on one occasion. The fact that you could see someone one day and then they’re dead the next was terrifying. To watch your once young friends slowly grow old and fragile…it was a form of reality. The reality that eventually everything would end. Well, if Jean could help it, he would avoid it from now on; he would stop getting close to humans, what was the point? They only ended up dying on him. If he didn’t care about them, he wouldn’t get hurt.

If only it were that simple right?

But it’s Jean’s job to hurt others. More like the point of his existence, actually. Being labeled in the book as the “god of calamity” was pretty rough, not like being the self-proclaimed “god of misfortune” made him feel any better. That was another reason why he should stay away from humans, the more he interacted with them, the more he made them suffer. Hell, they’d suffer just by interacting with him now. Jean wished he could call himself a fun person to be around, but the fact that he can be a pessimistic asshole twenty four hours a day remains unchanged to this day. He had a right to be pessimistic, and he damn well had a right to be an asshole, but if only he could tone it down just a little…

If only Jean didn’t have so much on his mind today.

He tried to distract his inner turmoil by tuning in on passing strangers’ conversations. Most of it was white noise, nothing interesting enough to catch his attention. The phone in his pants pocket vibrated against Jean’s leg constantly without rest. He knew it was the group chat he’d been dragged into a few weeks prior; another thing Jean hated humans for, their technology. It was so much easier when you had to find someone in order to talk to them! Okay, maybe it was purely for Jean’s benefit to be able to hide and avoid Eren for the rest of his life. Instead, he was a button away and his voice could come through the speakers and blow out Jean’s hearing over stupid shit. It was nearly impossible to get away from people when you owned a cell phone, Jean only owned one because he ordered take out nearly every day. Add lazy to the list of traits Jean hated about humans. Of course, gods and humans were barely different; Jean could see lazy at the top of a list to describe himself. Was he too lazy to wreak havoc or was he getting too soft on humans? Who knew?

The buzzing was really starting to get out of hand. Jean glared at the menu outside of his usual coffee shop as if he didn’t know what was on it. He tried to consider whether or not he wanted to go inside when he felt a prickling sensation at the back of his neck. It was usually the feeling Jean got before he snapped, and when he snapped, nothing went well for anyone. The prickling was timed with the constant buzzing of his phone, both of which were _so fucking annoying._

Jean ripped his phone out of his pocket in anger and scowled at the screen. Ninety eight new messages on the chat and counting. A drop of water hit the icon on his phone, followed by several more. Jean looked up in time to see the torrential downpour he caused fall over the city. People screamed and ran into buildings to take shelter while some casually pulled out umbrellas. Jean remained where he stood and unlocked his phone to read the messages. No way in hell was he starting at the beginning.

**Sasha: rumor has it that Erwin and Levi are splitting the cost for dinner tonight!**

**Connie: You know what that means!!!**

**Sasha: We get to go all out and try that new party platter!!**

**Bert: The hundred dollar one?! Are you crazy?**

**Reiner: You know, money has nothing to do with affection. Personally, I’d be happy with sandwiches.**

**Ymir: No one cares you big baby**

**Christa: Be nice to Reiner! He has a point! We shouldn’t make them spend a lot of money on us!**

**Sasha: Oh come on, Erwin’s got money to spare, and Levi has a stack of money taller than himself!**

**Eren: GUYS! What if he sees that?!**

**Connie: I just want the party platter. And everything on the menu!**

**Erwin: Please refrain yourself to one meal per person.**

**Connie: He finally responds!**

**Ymir: aaaannnnd…he just left the group.**

**Reiner: Nice going guys. I’ll see you tonight**

**Eren: I swear if you guys keep responding I’m coming through the phone to punch you in the face.**

**Ymir: Bring it!**

**Connie: Ymir don’t! You know he only runs on testosterone and hate!**

**Eren: Connie I’m coming for you next**

**Sasha: Good luck with that!**

**Armin: Please stop guys, you’re making my phone glitch…**

**Annie: who the hell invented cell phones anyway**

Jean put his phone on silent before making his way down the street. His clothes were soaked now and he had to push his hair back to stop water from running in his eyes. The sky had turned a pretty cool shade of black, and you could see the small sparks of lighting through the clouds. It could be considered one of Jean’s finer masterpieces considering he caused this just by being annoyed. He may not have ruined anyone’s life today (that he knew of), but he might have ruined plans for a lot of people. Jean turned to cross the street, his destination: home as per usual. Did he plan on going to the group dinner tonight? As much as he disliked the people on the chat, Jean couldn’t pass up free food.

  _Even if that meant possibly making a fool out of himself and being the target to everyone’s teasing?_

                “Stop being pessimistic Jean.” He muttered under his breath and took a step forward into the street.

                “Whoa watch out!” A strong force yanked Jean back into place on the sidewalk just before a speeding car whipped by, splashing water on Jean and his savior. Jean was already soaked, but if the guy who saved him wasn’t…well now he was. Jean looked at him as he was tightly gripped by the shoulders. “You have to be more careful when you cross the street! You can’t just walk into traffic like that!”

Jean stared at the man in mild confusion. The guy looked terrified: his dark eyebrows were knit together and his amber eyes looked panicked.

                “I’m sorry?” Was all Jean managed to get out. The man released Jean and ran his fingers through his hair.

                “It’s okay, just be careful.” He checked his phone and made another terrified face. “Oh no, I’m so late! Take care!” the first half was to himself and the second half he shouted over his shoulder to Jean as he ran off.

Jean stood where he was and watched him run off. What a strange guy. Jean finally turned, crossed the street after checking properly, and made his way home.

He climbed the steps to the doorway of his apartment before he realized that it had stopped raining. Small rays of light were beginning to shine onto the street and illuminate the cars in a warm afternoon light. Everything seemed to suddenly become bright and colorful, a complete opposite of the dark and gloomy rain that covered the town less than ten minutes ago. Jean felt a chill run down his spine and turned to go inside.

Today has been a pretty strange day.

 

 

 

In the end, Jean decided to show up for dinner, but spent  an hour trying to figure out what to wear and how to brush his hair. Was the restaurant classy or was it a regular sit down? If it was Connie and Sasha’s choice, the restaurant could be a barn for all he knew. The restaurant was located in the more upscale part of the city, so maybe he could wear a sweater and not look too underdressed. Jean took a shower, changed into his uncomfortably itchy sweater, and threw on his coat before he grabbed his car keys and left out the back. Boy, did Jean hate driving. Not only was it a quick trigger for Jean’s anger, it was also terrifyingly dangerous. Here he was speeding down the dark streets in this heavy machine that could only be stopped by his brake pedal or some outside force, like a tree. People walk out into the streets as if they don’t expect cars to hit them, they flew by you on their bikes, and they completely disregard the basic street rules when they actually drove. But tonight wasn’t going to be one of Jean’s bitter nights. He was going to be a fun and sociable person. Maybe he’d even try to be nice to Eren today…that would be a good turn of events right?

Jean let out small sigh as he parked a few cars down from the restaurant. He was lucky to even get a spot, the entire block was packed with cars, which was understandable considering it was seven o’clock and this street consisted mostly of lounges and bars. The restaurant itself stood out on the corner; bright hanging lights crossed over the streetlamps above and a warm glow came from the windows. The huge sign above read “Riviera” in bright red. Jean prayed it wasn’t as classy as he thought it was as he stepped through the glass doors and paused at the front desk. There was classical music playing and the sound of glasses clinked near the back of the restaurant, but it was mostly an open layout. Dark wooden floors gave the place a more casual appearance and to Jean’s relief, the tables lacked tablecloths.

                “JEAN!” a familiar high pitched voice called from farther in the restaurant. The woman at the front desk smiled at Jean and gestured for him to join them.

                “Welcome to Riviera, I hope you enjoy your stay.”

_What is this, a hotel?_

Jean nodded back at her before making his way towards the table full of “friends”. The girl who called him jumped up and down in her seat with a smile on her face. “You came!”

                “Yeah.”  Jean slid his hands into his pockets and gave the girl a small smile. “Hey Sasha.”

Sasha was one of the few people who was actually nice to Jean. Of course, Jean never really messed with her, mostly out of fear of Sasha putting an arrow through his head. It was also easy to get on Sasha’s good side, all you needed was to give her your leftovers and she’d love you for life.

                “Is it a Christmas miracle or what?” Ymir slung her shoulder over her blonde companion’s shoulder and turned her freckled nose up at Jean. “Glad you found time in your busy schedule to join us.”

The blonde girl beside Ymir slowly pushed aside Ymir’s nearly empty glass of beer before giving Jean a warm smile. “Welcome Jean!”

                “Thanks Christa.” Jean locked eyes with Eren, who was giving him the death look over his drink. They stared at each other for a few seconds before someone pulled Jean into a strong embrace.

                “I’m so glad you came! I told them that you would!” Jean could hear the familiar rumbling sound as his face was smashed into Reiner’s massive chest. He could feel the air being pushed out of his lungs and his ribs cried for mercy.

                “Reiner…” Jean wheezed and patted Reiner’s back. “I can’t breathe.”

The big man pulled back to hold Jean at arm’s length away. He looked Jean up and down and narrowed his brown eyes. “You got a haircut! It looks good on you.” The compliment made Jean automatically reach up and touch his hair. It took him off guard, someone noticing such a small detail on him…but then again, it’s Reiner, he notices _everything_. Somehow he knew when Jean switched his toothpaste flavor. For such a big guy, you’d probably be intimidated by him at first glance, but once you get to know him…well you could still be intimidated. Even though he was the god of War, Reiner self- proclaimed himself as the god of Love, which was kind of weird. So instead of storming around carrying an axe like he used to a hundred or so years ago, he brings his boyfriend Bert bouquets of flowers and constantly drags people out to go see romantic movies with him. Reiner was a good guy, but he could be a little too intense sometimes, especially when he was drunk. Jean prayed that he wouldn’t get drunk.

                “Join us Jean.” Connie patted the seat beside him and gave Jean a wide grin. Once Jean sat down, he looked around at the mess his friends had already made. Connie scratched the back of his neck and looked at Sasha. “So we ordered four baskets of sweet potato fries and guess who ate all of them?”

                “I didn’t even get one.” Bert said quietly. He sat next to Christa near the end of the table and absentmindedly stirred his water. Reiner gave him a reassuring pat on the back.

                “We can always order more, no need to make a big deal out of it.” Eren grumbled. Ymir clicked her tongue and gave Eren a pointed look. Bert stiffened next to Christa and gave Reiner a worried look. This could mean two things: either Ymir was about to start something with Eren, or something of equal consequence was about to go down. Both of which would end badly, that much Jean could feel, though he wanted nothing more than to see Ymir put Eren on the spot.

                “Can’t you cut your asshole antics for one night? I’m trying to enjoy a nice night with my girlfriend despite being stuck with all of you, and you’re not making it any better.”

Eren looked up from his drink and gave Ymir a smirk. “Is it always about you Ymir?”

Christa shifted her weight and lightly patted Ymir’s arm. She whispered something into her ear and smiled angelically, causing Ymir’s face to contort into a wicked grin before she looked back at Eren. Just as Ymir opened her mouth to say something, the doors to the restaurant opened and Sasha gasped.

                “Sweet Jesus on a loaf of bread.”

Two men walked through the doors in black suits, radiating a strange aura of importance and power. The tallest one conversed with the woman at the desk, flashing his ultra-violet bright white smile and gestured to the table that the group sat at. This man was probably the most powerful man Jean knew; as their commander in charge, Erwin stood as the support beam for Jean and his peers. No one really knew how old he was, but Jean could only assume that he’d seen a lot of shit as the god of Justice. Erwin definitely fit the role as the god of Justice too: he always had his blonde hair neatly parted, his icy blue eyes seemed like they could search your soul for every lie you’ve ever told (Jean still wasn’t sure if he could actually do that or not), and he always dressed like he had a court day to attend to. As a high class lawyer, Erwin probably was in court all of the time and had to deal with a lot of stress, yet he was always around when someone needed him. Jean regarded him as a pretty straight-forward guy and really serious. He’d never seen Erwin laugh, but Jean figured it was mostly because Erwin was too tired to laugh rather than he didn’t find anything funny. Levi stood next to Erwin with that permanent displeased look on his face. When they stood side by side, their height difference was almost comical; Erwin towered over Levi by at least a foot. Even so, they both looked like they were going into the FBI rather than having a regular dinner with a bunch of nobodies. They made their way towards the table, and Jean saw nearly every woman in the restaurant turn to watch Erwin.

Ymir let out a whistle once Erwin and Levi got close. “You two look smokin’ tonight.”

Reiner nearly chocked on his drink. Bert’s hands fluttered around Reiner as if he didn’t know what to do before Reiner gave him a thumbs-up after he stopped coughing.

                “Maybe we did overdress a little.” Erwin gave Levi a small smile and shrugged out of his jacket, leaving him in a crisp white collared shirt and a black tie, which was still fancier than Jean’s grey sweater. Erwin sat next to Levi near the head of the table and brought his hands together. “Thank you all for coming tonight.”

                “You had me at free food.” Sasha passed out the menus that were sitting at the other end of the table, untouched. “Is there a particular reason why we’re having dinner together?”

Erwin opened his menu and stirred his water with his free hand. “I just feel like it’s been a while, don’t you?”

There was a murmur of agreement around the table which quickly morphed into a debate over what they wanted to order. Sasha held up the page that advertised the party platter to Erwin and gave him puppy dog eyes. Erwin shook his head once and proceeded to ignore her, but her persistence caused a small smile to tug at the corner of his lips. Jean accidently made eye contact with Levi, who narrowed his eyes at him before leaning forward.

                “Jean, I saw that you almost had a little incident with a car this morning.” Levi’s voice was dangerously low, barely loud enough for Jean to hear.

Jean broke into a cold sweat under Levi’s gaze. Honestly, for such a little man, Levi was terrifying when he wanted to be.

                “Yeah, it was an experience…wait, how did you know?”

Levi smirked and leaned back in his seat. “I see everything.” Okay, that was creepy. Jean gave Levi a nervous smile. _Don’t show him your weakness Jean. Levi smells fear._

                “You know what would’ve happened if you weren’t helped, right?” Levi kept his voice low, but his tone sounded more amused than threatening. Of course he would be amused at Jean’s mishaps; gee how funny is it that the god of misfortune is the one with the worst luck?

But Jean knew what Levi was referring to. If Jean had gotten hit by that car, rather than Jean being hurt, the car would’ve crumpled as if it hit a brick wall instead of a lanky young man. It wouldn’t have just cost the life of the people in the car, but would’ve also created a commotion for the people who witnessed it. If they saw a car magically smash apart without hurting the person being hit, it would just cause problems for the other gods. Memories would have to be altered, all that jazz. However, Jean was saved, so it didn’t matter anyway. Now that Jean thought about it, he never got to tell that guy a proper ‘thank you’, he just ran off saying he was late. It kind of sucked, he’d probably never see that guy again; they lived in a big city so it was pretty likely that he’d never see that guy again.

Jean stared at his menu without reading it; he somehow managed to lose his appetite in such a short amount of time. Once again, the conversations around him began to turn into white noise, none of the contents holding anything worth listening to. Even as he looked around at the familiar faces that he’d spent so many years talking to, Jean still felt as he did when he stood in the middle of the city: surrounded by strangers.

  
  



	2. Tale of Levi: Dependence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Levi and Erwin have a special relationship. One that has many mutual benefits. (Warning: smut ahead)

It had been one hell of a day. It wasn’t even dinnertime and Levi was exhausted. It was understandable, considering how physically and mentally taxing it was to be the god of death. In fact it was so difficult that they split the job among six others, one for every continent. That still left an entire continent in Levi’s responsibility and a lot of lives to manage.  What Levi had learned from humans could fill an entire book; however he wasn’t sure whether it would be a guide to humanity or a long and painful tragedy. Being sensitive was the worst thing you could do in this line of work, and Levi had learned the consequence of that so many times he lost count. To take the lives of your friends, to take the lives of strangers, it changed you. It warped your personality; it made you question your view on the world. That realization hit Levi in his earlier stages of life, and decided to take the lives of others without mercy, without a single thought. He followed the List like he was supposed to, but there were times where he just didn’t care, he’d take more lives than necessary. The List was created only for the purpose of instructing the gods of Death on who to take, but it didn’t say that Levi couldn’t take the life of someone who wasn’t on it. He decided to start hating humans; they put themselves in these positions, they killed each other mercilessly, why couldn’t he? Back then he was naïve; he had begun to attribute his role as the god of death as the most powerful god there was. He believed that he was the best out there, that no god would try to challenge his power, and he believed that no one could stand against death itself. By witnessing countless wars and plagues, death was the only thing that ravished the Earth without resistance. Maybe it was easy living back then, but now Levi had a new perspective. It may not be a positive new perspective, but Levi knew his boundaries and he respected the concept of human life. No matter how fragile a life could be, it was still a life nonetheless though Levi just wished he didn’t have to be the one to take it away. It’s funny; this wasn’t the way he thought a hundred years ago. There was only one person to blame for that.

                “Erwin.” Levi called as he took off his shoes at the doorway, set them neatly on the shoe rack, and made his way down the hall into the apartment. There was no response, guess he wasn’t home yet. Levi paused by the bathroom door, which was cracked to reveal a small sliver of light into the dark hallway. He opened the door slowly and peered inside.

Erwin sat on the toilet with his elbows resting on his knees and his head in his hands. Levi stepped into the bathroom and lightly touched the back of his head.

                “Are you sleeping?”

Erwin turned his head and peered at Levi with one eye open. “No, I’m awake.”

Levi crossed his arms and smirked at him. “If only the world could see you now, the great and mighty Erwin, stuck on the toilet from constipation.”

Erwin chuckled quietly. He must have just woken up; the only thing he wore was his boxers, a very rare sight. It was the side of Erwin that nobody saw except for Levi, his other half in a way. In the public eye he was the handsome, perfect, well put together Erwin, but at home he was a hot mess. He still managed to be organized and nonetheless handsome, but Erwin showed his other traits: his insomnia, his sadness, and his overbearing stress. Levi was surprised Erwin didn’t have any grey hair yet but could he even get grey hair? Could any of them?

Levi left the bathroom and walked into the kitchen. It was a pretty high class kitchen for someone who never cooked. Brand new shiny appliances occupied the kitchen as if they were just for show; the only thing that was frequently used was the coffee machine. The fridge was full of drinks and last night’s Chinese food, but nothing else. Levi made a mental note to go shopping soon, if Erwin was running on just coffee and Chinese food, he wouldn’t last very long. After grabbing a bottle of water, Levi walked into the bedroom and shrugged out of his jacket. He hung it up and took a few gulps of water when Erwin came in. He stopped in front of Levi and smiled one of his tired smiles, then ran his thumb across Levi’s lips.

                “You better have washed your hands before you touch me.” Levi’s words sounded like an empty threat. After a few seconds he could smell the familiar scent of their soap on Erwin’s hands.

                “Of course.” He dropped his hand and walked into the closet. “Do you know what we should wear? Is it a sophisticated place, or?”

Levi stared at Erwin’s back and took another sip of his water. “This is what you get for letting those brats choose the restaurant.”

He watched Erwin shift through dozens of jackets and suits, none of which seemed to appeal to him. Levi could tell he was already beginning to stress over his outfit, such a minor thing for most people, but appearances were everything to Erwin. As a highly respected lawyer, he had to maintain his perfect composure and character no matter what; Levi knew it was only an act that would drive Erwin into the ground. Erwin loved his job, more than anything in the world, but he was simply doing too many things at once, and he’d been making the same mistake for over two hundred or more years. Levi only knew him that long, who knew what he’d been doing before then. He could remember when he’d first met Erwin, the new commander of the third class gods. Levi’s first impression was that Erwin was arrogant, but it turned out that he was the only arrogant one. Of course, Erwin did use his height as an advantage in manipulating Levi by towering over him like the fucking giant he is. He would question every motive Levi had about death and pushed him until Levi snapped. Erwin was also extremely independent back then, but whenever Levi planned on going off on his own, he would get the “I need you to lend me your power speech” and ended up stuck by Erwin’s side for the past two hundred years. Their current relationship was both complicated and not complicated. They did whatever they wanted; they lived together more out of convenience than anything else.

Erwin finally pulled out a plain black suit and tie and laid it out on the bed. “How much time do we have Levi?”

                “Well the dinner starts at seven, and it’s almost six.”

Levi watched Erwin scratch the back of his head. “I still have to shower…” He walked past Levi and paused at the doorway with his hand on the wall. “Do you want to join me?”

Levi clicked his tongue at another one of Erwin’s annoying traits. Somehow this man got everything he wanted, mostly because he had a nice face to look at; He didn’t even have to use manipulation anymore with Levi, but asked basic requests that Levi had no reason to refuse.

                “Do you want to make us late?”

Erwin smiled and walked down the hallway. “We’d save time, actually.”

Yeah fucking right.

Levi’s feet seemed to move on his own as he followed Erwin down the hall. He walked into the bathroom just as Erwin started the shower and Levi sucked in a breath as he shut the door beside him. One of the other sides of Erwin was his strange craving for contact. By contact, Levi meant sex. No matter how tired he might be after a day of work, Erwin always had the temperance of a horny teenage brat. Levi could only be glad that they had a shower big enough to fit three people in it, or at most two Erwins. Levi was pulled into a gentle embrace and the only sound in the room was the water running in the shower.

                “You know, we don’t have to go to dinner, we can just pay the bill for them.” Levi ran his hands down Erwin’s smooth hard back in a soothing motion. Erwin shook his head and took a deep breath.

                “I’ll be fine.” He looked Levi over with his bright blue eyes and teasingly tugged up Levi’s shirt. Levi bit his lip and pulled the shirt off so Erwin could trace the lines on his stomach. His surprisingly cold hands caused Levi to flinch under his touch.

                “Last time we did this, we discovered that shower sex doesn’t work.” It was a combination of colliding heads, bruised hips, and skinned knees. None of which were pleasant to remember at all.

Erwin’s eyes seemed to flicker with some inner light. A mysterious smile began to play at his lips, which usually meant he was thinking of something Levi didn’t like.

                “We discovered that standing up doesn’t work.”

                “Well that’s a given, you’re too fucking tall…” Levi crossed his arms when something began to dawn on him. In the shower there was a ledge where Levi would sometimes sit and contemplate his life choices before getting out of the shower, it was also convenient for when you were having a heat stroke after washing your hair for too long. “Are you implying that I should _ride_ you?”

Erwin pulled Levi into another embrace. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Levi hated that line. It was almost the same as saying, “you don’t have to clean the house if you don’t want to”; it was like reverse psychology or something.

                “Are you done being constipated?”

Erwin pulled back to look Levi in the eyes. “Yes I am.” He gently pushed his lips against Levi’s and moved his hands to Levi’s waist, tugging down his pants. Levi helped him by shimmying out of them and slid down Erwin’s underwear, exposing his half-hard erection. Erwin in turn pulled Levi into the warm water and sat on the ledge with a slightly hungry expression. It kind of felt nice to be wanted, and Levi found himself stuck to Erwin like a leech on its host because of that fact. Death was rarely ever wanted, but it was a necessary existence that you couldn’t avoid. Erwin made Levi feel like he could have a life aside from his existence as the “Grim Reaper”. In a way, Erwin was his escape from the world and Levi was his. At this point, Levi wondered if either could exist without the other now; they’d built such an unhealthy reliance on each other over the years, it was hard to tell. None of it seemed to matter in this apartment; it was their private world that only they lived in.

Levi grabbed the body wash off one of the shelves and squeezed some onto Erwin’s shoulder. He was going to play it out as much as he wanted considering Erwin was asking for one of the most embarrassing things Levi would ever do in his life. Erwin knew that, probably, because he took the bottle from Levi and squeezed a large amount into his palm before smearing it across Levi’s torso. His breath hitched as Erwin brushed his lips against Levi’s, and the heat from the shower began to go to Levi’s head. Erwin pulled Levi into a deep kiss, holding Levi tight against him as he moved his tongue around the inside of Levi’s mouth. His soapy hand moved down between Levi’s thighs, and the other hand moved to jack him off. Levi dug his fingers into Erwin’s arms as his pace sped up and his fingers pressed against Levi’s entrance. Levi could feel his face heating up and felt the quickening of his breathing, mostly to blame for Erwin’s impatience and the heat from the shower. Or maybe Levi was just getting too excited, not like it really mattered. Erwin slid his second finger in and drew Levi closer to him; the heat was clearly starting to get to his head too. He alternated between two and three fingers, swiftly stretching Levi out as he went. There goes ‘playing it out’; if they kept this up much longer they’d pass out from the steam gathering in the room. Levi carefully positioned himself over Erwin’s lap and Erwin slid out his fingers to tightly grip Levi’s waist. The pressure made Levi clench his teeth as he felt Erwin push into him and fill him with heat, so instead he focused on the sound of the falling water and wrapped his arms around Erwin’s neck.

_I can’t believe I’m actually doing this._

Once he was completely inside, Erwin took Levi by surprise by using his hands to rock Levi’s hips, causing him to cry out. That response seemed to please him, so Erwin continued to rock Levi mercilessly against him as the water rained above them. He could feel Erwin’s building excitement as his breathing sped up and he moved his hands to support Levi by holding his back in a tight embrace. Levi could only imagine the two of them losing their balance, slipping on the shower floor, or passing out from heat stroke. Showers were way too fucking dangerous, but it wasn’t like baths were any better. A bath did sound a lot more comfortable; this for one, was not comfortable. Thanks to gravity, Erwin was deeper in Levi than he’d ever been, and on top of that, Erwin was taking advantage of the slippery environment by moving faster than he normally did. Levi wondered in the back of his mind if Erwin was trying to focus on something else, which was usually the case. It didn’t really bother Levi, but it was a rise for concern, that meant something was troubling him, and that could be a problem because Erwin didn’t enjoy talking about his issues. Well neither did Levi, but sometimes you can’t hold everything in; Levi did that for two hundred years and it nearly ruined him.

 Levi tightened his grip on Erwin’s shoulders as he felt a sweet numbing sensation throbbing in his hips. Erwin’s teeth grazed Levi’s collarbone, causing him to shudder. Then Erwin started to thrust into him. The doubling effect of being rocked against and thrust into was almost too much for Levi to bear, let alone for him to stop the noises coming out of his mouth. Erwin was focusing on all of his sweet spots, as if he wanted to push Levi even closer to his limit. The throbbing sensation intensified, causing Levi to dig his nails into Erwin’s back. It felt like Erwin was pounding deep into his bones.

                “If you don’t slow down, I’m going to-” Levi’s voice came out strained. Erwin didn’t slow down his pace; in fact, he sped up once Levi spoke, cutting him off. The weird sound of wet skin hitting against each other seemed to push Levi even farther.

                “It’s okay, I want you to.” Erwin’s usually composed voice was full of heat, Levi’s indicator that he was reaching his limit too. As they slowly reached their climax, Levi clung onto Erwin for dear life as he rocked against Erwin’s quickening thrusts; the only sound Levi could hear now was their heavy breathing. Erwin held Levi tight against him and pushed in as deep as he could, resulting in Levi crying out and splattering Erwin’s chest with his cum. A few thrusts later, Levi felt Erwin tremble inside of him, followed by a faint sensation of warmth spreading inside of him. The two clung to each other for a few seconds to catch their breath in silence. Erwin looked up; his eyes were shining, and he had a bright smile on his face.

                “We’re going to be late.” His laugh was breathy, and he heavily rested his head against Levi’s chest. At first, Levi thought that he had passed out; his face was flushed from the heat in the shower.  Levi ran his hands through Erwin’s damp hair and stayed in his embrace. When Levi slowly stood up to get the shampoo, his knees buckled; the only thing that prevented him from hitting the floor was Erwin’s cat-like reflexes. He carefully lowered Levi until he was sitting on the tiles.

                “This is all your fault, you just had to have sex before we left!” Levi crawled on his hands and knees to get the shampoo and returned to Erwin’s side. He could feel a tepid liquid run down his leg as he stood up to rub the shampoo on Erwin’s head. Erwin noticed and gave Levi an apologetic look as he pulled Levi closer to him.

_Dirty_

Levi grimaced as he carefully worked the shampoo into Erwin’s hair and thought about getting it in Erwin’s eyes as payback for this whole ordeal. Once Levi was done, Erwin did the same for Levi, except somehow much more gently. The two washed off slowly and stepped out into the foggy bathroom. Erwin threw open the window to let in the air, which made the room feel a hundred times better. Levi finally felt like he could breathe again. He tossed Erwin his large green bath towel and reached for his. Suddenly wet skin pressed against his back and the towel wrapped around him. Erwin had pulled him into an uncomfortably hot and slippery hug. A small sense of dread began to fall over Levi.

                “Don’t tell me…” _you’re still horny?_ Levi couldn’t finish his sentence; instead he stood deathly still before he felt a rumble as Erwin laughed behind him. He moved away from Levi and wrapped the towel around his waist before making his way back towards the bedroom. Levi grabbed his towel and dried off, starting with his hair. By the time he got into the bedroom, Erwin was already in his pants and buttoning up his white shirt. He left his tie hanging on his shoulders as he studied himself in the mirror. Levi moved past him and searched the closet for something acceptable to wear. If Erwin was going to wear a suit, he probably should too, right? What a pain in the ass, the place was probably a dump.

Levi pulled on his clothes and stepped out of the closet while buttoning up his shirt. Erwin looked up at the ceiling and groaned.             

                “I forgot the deodorant.” He looked at the doorway as if he were judging whether it was worth the walking distance and made his way back down the hallway. Levi chuckled before he walked up to the dresser at the front of the room. Little did Erwin know that Levi kept deodorant in the first drawer.

By the time they were fully dressed and out the door, it was seven-ten.

                “It’s unusual for you to be late to a special occasion.” Levi murmured as they climbed into Erwin’s car, which was a brand new jet black Porsche. Levi had been completely against the whole fancy car thing, but Erwin _really_ wanted it, and it wasn’t actually Levi’s decision. To compensate, Erwin bought Levi one of the best vacuum cleaners he’s ever used.

Once Levi sat down, he winced as a sharp pain shot through his stomach. Erwin froze and gave Levi a concerned look. “Are you okay Levi?”

                “I’m fine.” Levi quickly buckled his seatbelt and leaned back in his seat. “Let’s just get this stupid dinner over with.” He wondered if he could manage to stay sitting down for the next couple of hours, pain was already starting to throb through his body.

Erwin nodded and shut his door without a word. Levi balled his fists into his lap and stared out into the dark street; he wanted nothing more than to go to sleep, but he also wanted to see one more thing from Erwin tonight.

                “Next time…” Levi’s voice was loud in the quiet car, “We’re doing it in the bathtub.”

 The car started with a quiet purr and lit up the interior, illuminating the smile Levi was looking for.

                “No more showers?” Erwin sounded like he was trying not to laugh.

                “No more showers.”

 They drove to the restaurant in silence after that, since the radio was on too low to be heard. But that was the kind of relationship Levi had with Erwin, they could sit in a comfortable silence for hours on end, and that made Levi happy. Maybe more like content; it’d been such a long time since Levi had felt “happiness” he’d actually begun to question whether he’d ever really felt it. His relationship with Erwin made him feel comfortable, that was a true fact. He wondered what Erwin thought about him, but never planned on asking, what kind of weird shit would that be? It would be like some shitty RomCom, and Levi wasn’t having any of it. Then again, Erwin looked like the type of guy to star in one of those movies, the overly attractive boyfriend who would stand at the door with flowers.

Levi mentally cursed Reiner for dragging him into one of his movie marathons. He must’ve been drunk out of his mind to end up being stuck watching that kind of shit. Well, it didn’t matter now did it? Whether he liked it or not, he was stuck with this train-wreck of a man, but maybe that train-wreck of a man could be considered Levi’s lifeline. Whether he liked it or not, he needed Erwin, and Erwin needed him, and that would never change. As the god of Death, Levi really didn’t believe in fate, but it was starting to feel a lot like it. Maybe Erwin was the little spark that Levi needed to warm his frozen heart.

Fuck you Reiner.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought this chapter turned out rather well, if I do say so myself. Did you guys enjoy it? Comments are always appreciated! The next chapter will have more details into Jean and Marco’s relationship, and Armin and Annie show up!  
> ^^^  
> As the author, I actually had really tough time writing in Levi's point of view! I think he has a really complex look on things, but I'll probably get it down eventually! I had to write about Erwin and Levi, considering I think Erwin's actually my favorite character in this series because he goes through soooooo much! Anyway, thanks for reading! Let me know what you think of the character so far and I'll try my best to write a good story!! What's that? Do I smell a Freckled Someone in the next chapter?


	3. Collision

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean was through with dealing with humans. Or gods. Or anyone in general. How can he begin to deal with people when they only forget him? When the person who saved him from a potential car accident still remembers who he is, Jean isn’t sure whether it’s a good or bad thing….

They say that once you’ve spent enough time in the dark, you begin to shy away from the light. Jean didn’t really understand that concept until recently, but if he had to explain it in his own terms, it was a lot like how humans perceived death. They believed in this “tunnel with the light at the end” that appeared when they died, which was an interesting way to consider how their life would end. However it wasn’t realistic: the only light in the tunnel was when you first entered, and if that tunnel represented your life, you’d be pretty far away from that light when you died. Jean’s life was an infinite tunnel, an eternity of wandering through the dark and gradually forgetting what that light felt like. Once humans reached the end of their life, or their “tunnel”, there would be no light; there would be nothing, you simply fail to exist. There was no glorious light or anything like that. You didn’t go anywhere, you simply became…nothing. In Jean’s case, he’d never reach the end, well unless he was killed; at this point it seemed like a pretty unlikely possibility, but if he did die, the case would be the same. If humans stopped needing gods, then there would be no reason for them to exist; they too would be nothing but empty consciousness. It was a pretty depressing concept to wrap your head around, but it was the only thing Jean could use to try to understand how humans perceived death. This was an unending tunnel that Jean had wandered for over two hundred years with no turns or anything that could be interesting in the least. It simply went on and on for miles in the pitch black darkness; the suffocating air and lack of sound truly made it a frightening place; what had the light looked like when he had first entered? Could there possibly be a chance that there was light at the end? Maybe it was your mind playing one final trick on you before you finally died? It didn’t seem likely. At least, that’s what he believed; but as Jean made his way through the darkness, he could _see_ something in the distance. Little cracks appeared on what must be the ceiling of the tunnel, making it much smaller than Jean had imagined it to be. These little cracks let in a miniscule amount of white light, a sight Jean had never seen before and that forced him to stop in his tracks. What was the saying: don’t go into the light? Was this one of those situations? Even so, seeing light was different, a change that Jean didn’t know whether he wanted it or not. He had grown accustomed to the dark, and now once again, he saw light. The worst part was how Jean was drawn to it; he _knew_ that he should keep walking, to pretend like he didn’t see it. He knew that once he saw the light he would grow dependent on it and once he was plunged back into the dark, he would panic again.

He didn’t know what this light meant or what the cause of it was, but as he moved to walk underneath it, the beams of light burned against his exposed skin. Despite the intense heat, it seemed to stir something in Jean’s memory, but it was so faint that he couldn’t remember. Happiness? Purpose? It was strange; Jean quickly picked up his pace and continued past the small cracks in the ceiling and into the cold, dark, and never-ending tunnel. He doubted that he’d ever see it again; maybe that was for the best.

 

 

Jean yawned as he pushed his way through the glass double-doors to Headquarters. Jean and his peers only called it Headquarters to try and make it sound cool, but in reality it was a five-story building where they all gathered. The first floor was the lobby where there was a reception desk that no one ever sat at near the door. There was an area with a flat screen, a glass coffee table, and a couple of small cushioned seats near the large windows farther in the building, and across the room were the locked sliding doors to the security department which also led to the armory.

The second floor was usually the most occupied as it had the kitchen and lounge area. Jean normally took the glass staircase that led up into the lounge since it was faster than taking the elevator; that and he needed _some_ form of exercise every now and then. The kitchen, which had all the attributes of a regular kitchen like a stove, fridge, pantry, dishwasher, sink, and of course, a coffee machine, opened into the lounge which was filled with red round dining tables and chairs. A massive flat screen TV, even bigger than the one in the lounge, stretched across the wall in the front of the room as the main source of entertainment. Now there was a funny story behind the TV: it was no doubt acquired thanks to Erwin’s bountiful salary, but there was nearly a war over who got to watch what they wanted. Eren threw a fit when no one wanted to watch his shooter-thriller movies, Reiner cried when everyone refused to watch his romantic comedies, and Ymir insisted that they all watch her lesbian porn. Those were only a few of the demands Jean heard, but they all sounded miserable. Somehow everyone came to the conclusion that Erwin would choose what everyone would watch, so he decided to only have three channels programmed onto the TV and kept the remote locked away somewhere no one could find it. So the TV’s were always playing Animal Planet, the Food Network, or the Travel Channel. Erwin’s reasoning for these channels revolved around “educational” shows and movies as if watching TV would make this building full of idiots any smarter. If Jean had learned anything, he learned how to make a mean grilled cheese and that Ostriches apparently have three stomachs.

The second floor also had a small gym that Jean never used and the bathrooms that were located near the elevator. The third floor mostly belonged to “planning committee”, the people in charge of anything involving strategy and problem solving. The really smart ones could be found up there, it was “where all the magic happened” at least that’s what Jean was told. Armin was always up there, usually in the computer lab, which was next to the conference room. Erwin and Levi usually held meetings in there, none of which Jean enjoyed attending, but the room was usually occupied with higher ranked gods. There were only four Jean knew about, but he didn’t doubt that there were more.

The fourth and fifth floors were both unknown territory to Jean. Well, the only part of the fourth floor Jean had seen was Erwin’s office; the entire floor was dedicated to the higher ranking gods’ personal offices where they could consult among one another or whatever they did. The fifth floor didn’t even seem to exist. Some of the higher gods occupied that floor and sent their instructions down to everyone else, but Jean doubted anyone had ever been up there. In fact, there wasn’t even a button in the elevator to go to the fifth floor, maybe there was a secret staircase or something? Anyway, it didn’t matter because the second floor was Jean’s second home and he felt perfectly comfortable there, despite the fact that he was constantly harassed there.

Once he reached the lounge, Jean could hear voices coming from the kitchen. He peered around the corner to see Eren talking to Armin. The stubborn and angry brunette yelling at some unfortunate soul was the usual thing nowadays.

            “I don’t understand what her deal is! What did I ever do to her that could make her hate me?” Eren narrowed his angry sea green eyes and brought his fist down onto the counter. The coffee pot in the corner rattled nervously, but he gave it no attention. “Annie invited everyone to that bonfire except for me!”

Armin raised his hands in reassurance. “No, Eren she doesn’t hate you! It’s just that…last time you caused such a big commotion…”

            “She wanted me to burn my cell phone!”

Jean rolled his eyes and came out of hiding. Armin’s blue eyes met Jean’s and he waved him over.

            “Jean was invited to the bonfire last night, but he didn’t go! Neither did Christa or Ymir! There wasn’t a lot of people there anyway.” Armin was still trying to console him, poor guy.

Jean kind of felt bad for Armin. He had to spend so much time around Eren, it seemed like a pain in the ass, but Armin had nearly spent his entire life around the guy, and Eren being the god of Wrath, that was no easy feat. Jean wasn’t exactly sure how they met, but he knew that they had a little trio going on; the only person missing was Mikasa, wherever she was.

Now Mikasa was something else. When Jean had first met her, he fell in love with her long glossy black hair and the fierce expression in her eyes. She was a real beauty, so Jean found it nearly impossible not to be attracted to her. When he asked her out for the first time, she politely declined, and the second time he asked, he received a nice right hook to the jaw. After that, Jean began to realize that Mikasa only had eyes for Eren, which he didn’t understand _at all_ considering Eren was a fucking idiot. He got mad about everything and walked around as if he were the most important person in the world. Except when Levi came by, then he looked like a lost puppy with its tail between its legs, which Jean found hilarious.

            “I don’t get what her deal is Armin. Why do you spend so much time with her anyway? She doesn’t even talk to anyone.” Eren ran his hand through his dark hair and furrowed his brows. He gave Jean a side glance and grimaced.

_Yeah, nice to see you too Eren. No wonder Annie didn’t want your ass at the bonfire._

            “How are you Jean?” Armin’s voice went up, a clear attempt to change the subject. Jean opened a cabinet and pulled out a bag of chips. Someone was going to be mad at him for taking the last bag, oh well.

            “I’m fine.” Jean replied as he turned the bag over in his hands. “Anything interesting going on today?”

Armin scratched at his blonde head and frowned. “We might have a meeting today, actually. There’s been some more suspicious activity in the city.”

Jean tore open the bag and took a few steps towards one of the red tables. “Is that so?” It was definitely one of Jean’s few interests at the moment. Whenever he was out late walking the streets, Jean couldn’t shake off the feeling of being watched, which in his case, usually meant he _was_ being watched. There were also strange disappearances and a string of serial killings plaguing the city, but they were all headlined on the news as if a human were behind it. But Jean knew better; the crimes being committed were too complicated and well-executed. Almost as if they were trying to leave a message behind. To leave behind bodies next to words written in both blood and an extinct language, it had to be directed at the gods. Jean would normally applaud himself for being so observant, but he knew without a doubt Erwin was at least seven steps ahead of him. No one was smart if they stood next to Erwin, it kind of sucked.

            “It’s probably just some stupid human trying to get attention.” Eren yawned and left the kitchen, their conversation clearly too boring for him. He turned the corner as if he were going to the gym, which was pretty likely. Armin, on the other hand, joined Jean at the table and grabbed a handful of chips.

            “I asked Erwin about the gods that abandon their title.” Armin broke a chip in half and stared at it. “They’re the only ones who could do that sort of thing and not be corrupted.”

Jean stared at the TV without any interest in it. He was processing what Armin had said; that meant that he and Armin were on the same page. A god wouldn’t be able to perform a string of senseless murders without receiving some sort of punishment. The upper gods would notice right away, corruption wasn’t something that could be hidden. However, if a god dropped their title, they still kept their godly status, which seemed a little iffy.

            “Aren’t they called Rogues?”

Armin nodded and took another chip. “I think the more sins they commit, the more they change. It’s kind of similar to corruption: you forget what’s right and wrong, but you also change physically.”

            “What do you mean?” Did they grow wings or something?

            “Almost like a demon.” Armin mimicked horns with his fingers. “They might even grow more powerful. I mean, I’ve never seen one, but it sounds terrifying.”

            “Sounds like a party.” Ymir stood at the top of the staircase with a sly smile on her face. She wore a t-shirt that read “Get Wreck’d” and had her hair in the usual ponytail. Surprisingly, she wasn’t with Christa, which explained her attitude. It was simple: if Christa was around, Ymir played nice. If Christa wasn’t around, well, everyone got Ymir and all of her glory…uncensored. “You know, I think I fucked a demon once! I don’t remember his name, but he knew how to make a lady happy.”

Jean bit his cheek and stared into the chip bag, wanting nothing more than to escape. He watched Armin turn beet red in his peripheral vision. Ymir snatched away the chip bag and sat at the table next to them, flinging her feet onto the table and crossing them simultaneously.

            “I think you two are over-assessing the situation.” She said around her mouthful of chips. “But if what you say is true, I bet Erwin’s having a baby in his office right now.” The thought seemed to really amuse her since she nearly choked laughing at her own joke.

            “Who’s the father then?” Reiner reached the top of the stairs with Bertholdt at his side. Reiner had a playful look in his eyes as if Ymir’s idea was actually a possibility, and his boyfriend looked as uncomfortable as always. Bertholdt went to the fridge while Reiner came to sit next to Jean. He could practically see the chair straining under Reiner’s weight. They should make special chairs for people that massive, seriously. Considering he was nothing but pure muscle, Reiner probably weighed more than he looked. Bert returned with two bottles of water, which he set in front of Reiner and took his seat beside him. Reiner gave Bert a loving smile and lightly patted his hand on the table. “Thanks babe.”

Bert was a phenomenon to Jean, despite the fact that he’d known him for over a hundred years. He rarely spoke and when he did, he said some weird shit; he also had the tendency to sweat more than anyone Jean had ever met. Bert and Reiner were a package deal, just like how Ymir and Christa were. Hell, everyone in this damn building was paired up with someone, that’s just how it was. Everyone except for Jean, that is. He preferred to be alone, so it never bothered him. The last thing he wanted was someone on his heels twenty four hours a day, how lame would that be?

            “It has to be Levi…” Ymir looked up at the ceiling as if she were deep in thought. “It makes sense.” The room murmured in agreement, and Jean could just imagine Levi storming down here and slaughtering every single one of them. He would do it mercilessly, then he would probably revive them to clean up the mess that they had made for dying on his floor. That fucking short and terrifying clean freak wasn’t a force to reckon with.

            “That would be an interesting romance.” Reiner mused as he opened his water bottle. Ymir raised an eyebrow and started laughing. Jean could imagine little chunks of chips coming out of her nose. She deserved it.

            “Who said it would be a romance? In this day and age, romance doesn’t exist.” Ymir flicked her wrist and gave Reiner a challenging look.

Reiner leaned back in his seat and blew air out of his nose. If Jean was correct, he was about to launch into a huge lecture about the concept of love. It looked like it was about to be another clash between the self-proclaimed god of Love and the god of Lust, which always ended in them shouting strings of profanity at one another until Bert and Christa pulled the two away from each other. Problem: Christa wasn’t here to pull Ymir away and Jean highly doubted Bert alone could handle Reiner without her, and Armin didn’t have enough manpower to even come close to being helpful in that situation (no offense Armin, but brains won’t win out between those two).

Interesting enough, Reiner and Ymir didn’t hate each other; they just got into a lot of arguments, mostly because they were almost too alike. If you wanted to be sexually harassed and ultimately question your love life and reason for existence, spend a day with that dynamic duo. Jean could guarantee by day two you’ll be addicted to chick-flicks and possibly even addicted to sex; the two had a lot of influence that Jean had somehow managed to avoid. He planned on continuing to avoid it, so he took it as his cue to leave before things got too uncomfortable. If there was something important going on, someone could just call him later.

_Sorry Armin, I can’t sit through this one._

            “Yo, if you’re going out, bring us Starbucks.” Ymir balled up the chip bag and threw it at Jean as he descended the stairs. It bounced off his head and rolled down the stairs and while Jean watched it, he considered throwing himself down the stairs with it. If he broke his legs would he have to get coffee? Could he even break his legs? It had never happened, so probably not.

            “You guys have a coffee machine not even ten feet away from you.”

            “No one likes that shit!” Ymir leaned over the ledge to call after him. “You know what we want!” She then stuck her tongue out and wiggled it at him with a shit-eating smirk on her face.

Jean rolled his eyes and continued down the stairs. Yeah fucking right, like he’d waste his money on them. Yeah, his original destination was a coffee place, but it wasn’t Starbucks, that shit was too expensive for Jean’s liking.

Christa ran through the lobby as Jean reached the bottom of the stairs.

            “Hi Jean!” she called breathlessly as she passed him; her blonde hair was wind-blown, but somehow still managed to look perfect. “Is Ymir up there?”  
            “Yeah.” _Please control your girlfriend and save Armin from imminent death._

            “Are you going out to get coffee?”

Jean passed the reception desk and waved his hand, hoping Christa saw the gesture. “I got you covered.” He heard Christa’s “thank you” as he pushed his way back out the glass doors. He really needed to stop being so nice.

The sky was a cloudless blue this morning, but now small fluffy clouds occupied it. The bright day didn’t really lift Jean’s mood, but it was better than being out on a rainy day, right?

Jean made his way down the main street towards the coffee shop. There were way too many people out, which was understandable considering it was the fucking city and almost eleven o’clock. Jean could only imagine the line forming in Starbucks right now; he also knew that he couldn’t trick his friends into drinking something that wasn’t from Starbucks. His only (and preferred) option was to take it easy and just wait for the lunch rush to settle down. So instead, he walked into his favorite shop, more like the only coffee shop Jean went to nowadays. Being immortal kind of sucked; he couldn’t really go to the same place for more than twenty or so years. Yeah, they hired new people, but if he was ever recognized or remembered, they would see that he hadn’t aged. So Jean would have to take a forty or fifty year hiatus from his new discoveries; and by then he’d forget the place completely or they’d close. Jean didn’t plan on abandoning this spot anytime soon; not only were they reasonably priced, but they had nearly every flavor of tea on Earth here. Jean’s favorite was the peppermint-citrus twist, but today the cinnamon chai tea looked pretty promising. The place had a great vibe too‒high ceilings lined with wooden beams and brick walls with chalkboard menus along with dim lighting‒it really calmed his mind on days like today. It was never too crowded and the smell of coffee wasn’t too overpowering when he ate inside. Man, if he could live here for the rest of eternity, Jean could guarantee that his life would be a lot less shitty.

As Jean stared at the menu while he stood in line, someone tapped his shoulder.

_Ugh socializing_

 He slowly turned to see a familiar face, except this time the face was a little less flustered than before.

            “I’m glad you’re still alive! I was worried you’d walk into traffic again without me around.” His amber eyes lit up with his smile. Jean took him in again: dark hair, tan skin, the splash of freckles across his nose and cheeks, and eyes that focused on Jean like a freaking spotlight. His presence was a little…strong? Was that the word for it?

            “Oh, yeah haha.” _Smooth Jean._ “You’re the guy from before.” He grimaced at his dead-pan response. _Come on Jean, at least try to sound enthusiastic!_

The guy didn’t seem to notice Jean’s inner frustration. “Yeah, sorry I was running late and didn’t get a chance to introduce myself.” He held out a hand. “I’m Marco.” The guy had just run off after pulling Jean to safety, almost as if his life depended on it.

Jean shook his hand, feeling awkward as per usual. Did he shake it too hard? “I’m Jean.”

            “Nice to meet you Jean! I had a feeling I’d run into you again, so I wasn’t too worried. Do you come here often?”

_He talks a lot_ Was Jean’s first impression. It wasn’t like it was a bad thing; it spared Jean the pain of trying to make conversation.

Jean shrugged and moved up in line. “Yeah, I guess. They have good tea here.” He kept his eyes trained on the menu, staring at Marco kind of felt like staring at the sun. He like…radiated light, it was weird. Was he always in such a good mood in the morning? Well, it was almost the afternoon, but it still felt like the morning, okay?

            “I love their tea too; I come here nearly every day before school.” Marco rocked back on his heels and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Jean gave him a side-glance; was he still in high school? He looked a little old for a high school senior, he was probably referring to college? There was a university or two somewhere in the city, so that was a possibility.

            “Oh cool.” Jean couldn’t think of anything to say. He could ask what school he went to, but he didn’t really care. He could ask to be polite? He didn’t have much time to consider it; it was his turn to order. He ended up getting the same tea as always and stood off to the side with Marco as they waited for their drinks. Jean took another glance at Marco; they were nearly the same height, except Marco was slightly taller and had more of an athletic build. He had his jacket unzipped, revealing his neck which had freckles along the sides. Did he have freckles everywhere? _No, that’s weird Jean. You don’t wonder that about Ymir._

Ugh, gross.

Once they received their drinks, Jean followed Marco out of the small crowd and towards a table. The two sat opposite from one another and Marco gave Jean a skeptical look. He seemed to measure his words carefully before he put on a playful smile.

            “Do you normally walk into open traffic?”

Jean snorted and blew on his hot tea to cool it down. “You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

Marco laughed. It kind of took Jean by surprise; it was a really light and carefree laugh. Jean shook his head to scatter his thoughts and cleared his throat. “No, I normally watch where I’m going, I was just…I dunno, in a bad mood I guess.”

            “Okay.” Marco wrapped his hands around his tea. “Fair enough.” His eyes clearly said that he wanted to inquire more about the situation, but he didn’t.

Jean stared into his drink as he struggled to form his next sentence. He could feel his forehead wrinkle into its usual place when he scowled.

“Thank you.” It was a word Jean didn’t use nearly as much as he should. The guy saved him from a hell of a lot of trouble so he deserved Jean’s thanks more than anyone.

Marco widened his eyes and gave Jean a warm smile. “You’re welcome Jean.”

Jean felt a weird spasm in his chest when he saw Marco’s expression. He quickly cast his eyes back to the table and coughed. “Do you normally just go around rescuing people on the street or what?” He was pretty sure if Marco kept staring at him, he’d spontaneously combust or something.

Marco took the top of his tea and watched the surface steam. “I wish. It was just a lucky coincidence I guess.”

Jean narrowed his eyes at the word “lucky”. The only kind of luck that existed around Jean was bad luck. Hopefully, this guy would never know that. No, he won’t because after today, Jean and Marco will go their separate ways and Marco will forget that Jean ever existed. It happened many times: Jean would abandon his human acquaintances for only a week or two and then they forgot that they’d ever met. That was the way it was, unless they shared a special memory or spent a lot of time together; Jean was still a minor god and didn’t stay in the memories of humans for long. It proved to be pretty convenient, disappearing from someone’s memory as if you were never there in the first place, but at the same time, it was pretty terrifying. Jean knew his relationship with Marco would be no different; he hadn’t had a real relationship with a human in over thirty years, why would he start now? Sure, Marco remembered him after three days, but what about after a week? By then Jean will have never existed to him, and there’s no reason why he should stick in Marco’s memory anyway. Jean accepted that as part of his life.

Marco was still talking, but Jean’s mind had wandered elsewhere. He ended up watching Marco as he talked, the way he would occasionally gesture, how he would flash his ultra-white and perfect smile at him every so often, and the freckles that decorated his face. He was certainly an interesting human, he didn’t seem to be like the usual student: annoying, loud, and throwing around words Jean barely understood like “hashtag”, “YOLO”, and “Salt”. First of all, Jean had a twitter for two days and deleted it because he just couldn’t keep up with it (that and Reiner posts some weird ass shit) and Jean knew that YOLO meant “you only live once” but wasn’t that obvious? Why would you shout it out right before doing something stupid? It didn’t make sense, and now the word “salt” was being used for being petty? The list goes on and on over street lingo with kids these days and Jean hated them and their language.

            “Are you even listening to me Jean?” Marco pulled his eyebrows together and frowned. It wasn’t an angry frown, but more of a teasing pout; it didn’t really match his eyes, which were _definitely judging him._ Okay, maybe not hard-core, but Marco was getting a kick out of Jean’s heavy-thinking expression.

Jean jumped, nearly knocking over his half-finished and now cold tea. “H-huh? Oh yeah, of course I was!” Bad move…that was a bad move; he always said that around Levi, and Levi just _knew_ Jean like the back of his hand. It never led to a happy outcome either; Jean was also pretty bad at lying so it wasn’t hard to see through his bullshit.

Marco gave him a questioning raise of his eyebrows, but his smile was back. “Okay, then what did I just say?”

            “Something about you failing a test?” It was a wild guess. Marco didn’t look impressed. He just leaned back and stared at Jean with his eyes narrowed.

            “I did mention a test, but I didn’t fail it, thanks. If you stopped staring at me so intently, you would know that I asked you a question Jean.” Marco’s sounded like he was trying not to laugh; _he really couldn’t pull off the stern look, could he?_

Jean could feel a small burn in his cheeks. This guy was apparently the kind of person to call him out, huh? “I’m sorry dude, what did you ask me?”

           “I asked if you were going to school here.” Marco looked at Jean patiently and folded his hands on the table. Jean noted that he also had freckles on the tops of his hands.

            “Uh…” Jean scratched the back of his head. He was already starting to picture the story he’d have to come up with to explain himself.  “No, I don’t…”

Marco kept his eyes on Jean and nodded. As if he could see Jean’s minor panic in his eyes, he didn’t push any farther on the subject and launched into telling Jean about how nervous he was about his finals. Jean didn’t really know anything about that, but if it were anything like the tests Erwin had given him in the past, he felt bad for the kid. School was a mystery to Jean, Levi had suggested that Jean try it for himself, but he kept pushing it back until college got too fucking expensive to even dream about it. As if Jean wanted to pay to do homework and stress over things that didn’t even matter to him; it was the ultimate attempt at trying to be human, and Jean wasn’t that desperate to try. Socializing with humans every now and then was tough enough, but Marco was starting to put his mind at ease. Marco had things to say, his stories actually made Jean laugh (more like snort, but that’s the closest to laughing he’d been in a while okay), unlike Jean who didn’t know how to keep the conversation going and simply nodded as Marco continued to talk. Jean knew his happiness would be short-lived, as he had said before: humans had a faulty memory.

 Being a god meant that you were someone who simply didn’t exist to humans. It was similar to the theory “if I don’t believe in it, it doesn’t exist”, but more along the lines of “that person doesn’t exist, so I don’t remember them”. Jean wasn’t human and he couldn’t connect to them as if he were one. Perhaps gods had this ability of jumping in and out of human memories simply for convenience. If humans knew too much about them, gods would just make humans forget. And humans would loyally follow the path of ignorance, failing to notice that something else was going on. This started wars and conflicts in the past and humans had spent all this time believing that they were the ones who started it. Of course, not all of human history had been a result of the mistakes of gods, humans had done most of the dirty work themselves, and at least they had the memories of that. But this was different. This was Jean, talking to one guy, probably the most interaction he’d had in a long time, who looked genuinely interested in their conversation. Jean felt like pushing this kid away before he could think about the situation anymore. That’s what he had to do.

He couldn’t get drawn to the way the kid moved, how the light hit his face in a warm glow that reflected in his eyes, the way he looked at Jean as if he were a long lost friend of his. He had to put aside the fact that they’d been talking for a long time, but it didn’t feel like it because they were too focused on each other to notice. The fact that Marco was just a stranger but somehow made Jean feel more comfortable than sitting with any of his friends…it was a warning sign painted with neon colors and bordered with flashing lights.

As Marco spoke, Jean had to repeat the same words over and over in his head.

_He won’t remember you._

_He won’t remember you_

_He will not remember you._

God he tried so hard to believe that, but a part of him didn’t want to.

 

 

By the time Jean returned to headquarters with everyone’s coffee orders, it was one-thirty. He received some irritated mumbles, but still received compensation for his trip. There was still no word from Erwin, and the lounge was now filled with the whole gang. Mikasa was pouring coffee in the kitchen and talking to Eren, Bert looked like he was going to pass out as Reiner tightly gripped his hand and serenaded him at the table underneath the TV (which happened more often than it probably should), and Ymir was stroking Christa’s face down the hall with a loving expression(another normal thing). Annie had now joined the group and sat with Armin at the table farthest from the kitchen, but neither of them spoke. She watched Armin fill out a puzzle book with a bored expression. Connie and Sasha were busy raiding the fridge, which didn’t surprise Jean at all. They seemed pretty excited; maybe they found some of Erwin’s “leftover” lunch. Erwin tended to “accidently” leave his food in the fridge and yet always managed to have an amused look on his face when he caught Connie and Sasha pigging out on it. Jean was beginning to suspect that he was slowly poisoning the two bandits or at least slipping them laxatives. That’s what Jean would do.

Exhausted, Jean dropped into a seat at one of the empty tables and tried to watch Cutthroat Kitchen. Alton Brown was pulling out one of his infamous sabotages in the final round between two twin brothers. It was nearly impossible to hear over the different conversations in the room and there was no way for Jean to turn the TV up. When Connie dropped into the seat next to Jean holding a sandwich, he pretended not to see the bald troublemaker.

            “Yo, Jean! Are we gonna see you tonight at the bonfire?”

Jean sighed and peeled his gaze from the TV to look at the same boring ceiling he’d spent hours staring at for longer than he’d care to admit. There was still a stain on the far left where Reiner thought it would be a good idea to try the Mentos and Pepsi trick, a red splatter when Eren got pissed and started throwing spaghetti (how he managed to fling it that high was still a mystery to Jean), and a sad little cobweb in the corner (which had to be new otherwise Levi would be all over that shit. The ceiling was the only part of headquarters that wasn’t _perfectly_ clean, which made sense considering Levi was, well, pretty damn short. He wasn’t a fan of ladders either, so the one who was forced to scrub away at the ceiling ended up being Erwin.  He had to tolerate Levi’s whining over the mess, but Eren and Reiner had to receive the most of Levi’s rage.

 Honestly, the last place he wanted to be tonight was at a bonfire. The sandwich Connie was holding also looked suspiciously like the one he’d put in the fridge the other day for safe-keeping. It became less suspicious when he saw his name written on the side of the bag that the sandwich was in. Classy Connie strikes again and robs Jean of a good meal. Jean rolled his eyes and ignored his discovery; that sandwich was a lost cause now. “Was I invited to that?”

Connie snickered and took a bite of his sandwich. He chewed for a while before answering. “You know everyone’s invited to that except for Eren. Actually, I think he was invited to this one, only because of Armin though.”

Jean glanced at Eren and Mikasa in the kitchen. Eren was saying something to Mikasa that required heavy gesturing, which could honestly mean anything when it came to Eren. He could be asking where the bathroom was and from a distance look like he was acting out a movie. Maybe if Eren ended up going, Mikasa would come too; that was worth considering right? Ugh, but Eren was _Eren._

            “I might go, who knows.” _Totally not going. Pass._ Annie’s bonfires just involved sitting in a circle around the fire and tossing in something important to you for a sacrifice. Her being the goddess of Sacrifice, it made sense, but sometimes her standards were a little high. As if she got some nasty kick out of people burning the most important object they owned. Like hell Jean would burn his Xbox Annie, he wouldn’t be touching his headphones either. After everyone burnt their belongings and felt the emptiness in their hearts afterwards, there was nothing else to do but socialize; Reiner would take it as his chance to sing love-songs which were usually from Disney Princess movies or Ymir would try to tell horror stories and scar everyone for eternity. So no, Jean would not be attending _that_ snooze-fest thanks.

 

…Is what he said, yet only a few hours later, Jean found himself sitting in front of the fire pit bundled in his jacket in an attempt to stay warm in the night air. It seemed like a complete turn-around from this morning where Jean could wear a thin jacket and be fine; this was fucking parka weather.

_Why the hell did I come?_

Jean glared into the fire as Connie and Sasha jumped around beside him doing some weird tribal dance that they made up. It was borderline offensive and starting to take a less innocent approach that could probably be labeled as sexual harassment. Reiner and Bert were snuggled together on the other side of the fire, and Armin sat next to Annie, who was typing away on her laptop. The glow of the screen made her normally-intense face even scarier than usual. Did she even get an internet signal out here? Surprisingly Ymir and Christa didn’t show up, they were normally the couple that always showed up for Annie’s bonfires. Jean could assume what they were doing instead.

            “I’m going to sacrifice this picture of me and Bert that we took together after World War II, it normally means a lot to me, but that’s why I have to let it go.” Reiner was tearing up like the drama queen he was as he tossed the old photo into the flames. Annie briefly looked up from the screen and watched the new sparks fly into the air with an intrigued expression. Bert shifted forward a little and pulled out a really dangerous-looking knife.

What the actual hell?

            “Reiner gave this to me a long time ago…so it’s important to me.” He tossed it into the flames and watched it burn as Reiner pulled him into a tight embrace. Questions swam through Jean’s mind as he watched the hilt blacken and burn away. He wondered if Bert had ever used it, because you know, shy and timid Bert was totally the type of guy to just _go around and stab people with a barbaric ass knife._

 Armin tossed in one of his puzzle books. How original.

            “I hadn’t even finished the puzzle I was working on.” He said to Annie with a sad sigh. Jean saw a small smile flit across her features before she turned back to her computer. How did Armin’s five dollar sacrifice get more out of Annie than anyone else’s? It seemed a little biased, or was Jean just seeing things?

Jean tossed in an old wallet one of his friends had given him a long time ago, so long ago Jean didn’t even remember her name. It was just one of the many things that Jean needed to burn from his past; he might as well start with that. Connie and Sasha tossed in their friendship bracelets before they attacked the stash of beer Reiner had brought along. Sasha tossed Jean a can, which he clumsily caught before it could hit him in the face, and grinned.

            “Stop moping and sing the campfire song with us!”

Reiner inhaled loudly from across the fire and shouted the lyrics from that god-awful TV show that made Jean consider throwing himself into the fire to avoid.

            “Let’s gather ‘round the campfire and sing our campfire song! Our C-A-M-P-F-I-R-E S-O-N-G Song!”

Connie jumped up, spilling his beer everywhere, and joined in. Bert sighed and quietly opened his beer at Reiner’s side; Jean wondered just how fed up he was at this point. Armin slowly joined in the song and gave Annie a gentle nudge for her to join too. She gave him another microscopic smile and shook her head, but it was rare to see Annie this amused. Jean stared at the beer in his hands and opened it, wishing that it was enough to wash the song lyrics out of his head. He took a few gulps, made a face at the awful taste, and turned his glare to Bert.

            “Bert, please stop letting Reiner watch Spongebob.”

He nodded in Jean’s direction and polished off his can of beer in just a few gulps. “I’ve tried.” Jean wouldn’t put it past Bert to try to drink the shame away either.

Reiner’s booming voice rose into the night air and filled the courtyard they occupied behind Headquarters. Connie and Sasha’s awful singing mingled with his, and no matter how hard he tried, Jean couldn’t stop himself from laughing at them. But even with the commotion around him, Jean found himself gradually shrinking away from his friends again. He narrowed his eyes at his now-empty beer can. He was being a downer again, but it wasn’t like he could help it. Was he sad? He didn’t feel sad, maybe a little numb from the cold, or numb on the inside. He wanted to leave. He wanted to go home, crawl into his bed, and lay there until he fell asleep.

It was cold and embers from the fire kept floating too close to Jean’s pants for comfort. He had only come to this bonfire on a whim; he planned on staying at home and watching Netflix until he fell asleep, but he ended up here. Maybe he just hadn’t wanted be home alone tonight, but Netflix was sounding pretty damn tempting to him right now. Being alone with his thoughts could be dangerous as well, but here he was, surrounded by his friends and tortured by his thoughts as if he were home alone. As Jean watched the flames grow higher, he wondered if he could sacrifice some of his memories, at least the ones he didn’t want anymore. If he could just forget some of the years he had to endure, maybe he would be a happier person. Like that Marco kid, he looked really happy.

_Marco huh?_

Jean smiled at the fire and huddled deeper into his jacket. The thought made him feel kind of empty; Jean was starting to feel a lot like his beer can. He could sympathize with it easier than with humans. You serve a purpose, someone uses you, then leaves you empty and useless to be thrown away, simple. Humanity? Not simple whatsoever.

Connie had begun to use his beer can as a microphone and serenaded Sasha with a very bad attempt at the song “My heart will go on”. It could only be worse, he’d heard him singing “Anaconda” to Sasha earlier today and for some reason she _really_ got a kick out of it.

Armin had started another puzzle book; where it came from, Jean had no idea. Annie was busy staring at her laptop screen; God knows what she was looking at with that strange glint in her eyes that was borderline homicidal and sickeningly amused. All the while Reiner was trying to land kisses on every inch of Bert’s head before being lightly pushed away. Reiner had plowed through the rest of the beer in a record amount of time, but Jean highly doubted that he was anywhere near drunk. If he was, things would have been pretty messy and Bert would have been in trouble. Sloppy kisses and ass-handling was the least of his worries.

 Despite being the seventh-wheel, Jean could admit that he didn’t exactly _dislike_ his friends. Well, he’d spent almost a hundred or more years around them, so it was a given fact. Sure, they’d all been through hell and back (figuratively speaking, but Jean did wonder if Hell actually existed), but some days were better than others. Jean had also been through a lot with his human friends. Of course all of them were long gone now, but maybe those experiences are what made him into who he was today. He may not be in the best of spirits, but he is who he is and that can never change, right?

The smoke from the fire lingered in the air and clung to Jean’s clothes and hair. He knew it was going to be a pain washing all of it out in the morning, but it would be worth his epiphany. Staring at the fire for so long without blinking was surprisingly therapeutic, despite the painful burning and eye-watering he experienced during it. Even so, it was enough to wake him up.

Jean blinked against the smoke; he finally understood what he was getting at, or rather, where his thought process was taking him. Despite how painful the memories of his past were, he wouldn’t give them up for the world. He worked to make those memories, he felt pain, grief, anger, but also happiness and excitement, why would he want to forget that? Not everyone got to live more than two lifetimes, so why should he pretend like they didn’t exist? Jean just wanted stability, someone to think of him as a friend, to remember him.

He just wished that he could stay in the memories of others.

Yeah, that was it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aww Jean is thinking such deep thoughts for once! Up next, the tale behind Armin and Annie! Oh and also we have tumblrs, which are completely unrelated to our stories but if you want to check them out then mine (the editor) is kazenezumi123 and the author’s is imnotthatrandomokay.   
> ^^^  
> I apologize for taking so long (how long has it even been?) on this chapter! Not to complain, but I've been through Hell and back trying to get this story together! That included a MASSIVE plot re-evaluation and I both added and cut out a lot of things to make it better, so I hope you guys like it. I don't really know how I feel about this chapter, it was dedicated to introducing Jean's main buds and stuff (who he loves even though he hates to admit it), but now that we are out of the starting gate and I laid down some little plot points here and there, now the story can REALLY get going! Thanks for reading and throw us some comments/thoughts about anything! Yeah the next chapter is Armin's view on Annie, and what's up with all those bonfires Annie?


	4. Tale of Armin: Sacrifice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Armin reveals how the headquarters was formed and how he dealt with his low self-confidence. He’d always struggled with the concept of strength and how weak he was…until he met Annie.

If you lacked the physical strength to protect your friends on a battlefield, did that make you weak? What if you lacked the bravery to stand in front of the blade that threatened them? What exactly, made you strong in this world?

It took Armin a very long time to find the answer to this. He was born as a pretty average god, being the god of Wisdom didn’t exactly serve well with physical strength or anything like that. He was small, smaller than everyone else, and Armin doubted whether he could serve any purpose in a fight. In his younger years, when he had first met the ever-rowdy Eren, Armin had seen himself in a negative light. Eren, who flaunted his strength and who at most times let it get out of hand, left Armin feeling even worse. What if Eren got himself in trouble and Armin lacked the strength to help him? Would he have to rely on the strength of his friend simply because he lacked his own? To Armin, the ability to throw cars and fight off dozens of men defined what strength was. Eren was _strong_. Not only that, but Eren was also an extremely determined and passionate person. A lot of people failed to see that, the thick cloud of Eren’s constant rage prevented the world from seeing that, and sometimes Armin believed that Eren preferred it that way. He had said something along the lines of “I only need a few close friends”, but it was such a lonely idea.  Not long after that, Armin and Eren met Mikasa.

It was also the first time that they met Erwin and Levi. Thinking back on it, Levi was incredibly ruthless in the past, and so was Eren. Armin had been engaged in a deep discussion with Erwin over whether they would join the faction created to assemble the gods under one roof. It was a convenient concept, and it was definitely a new one; gods had simply lived individually and by their own rules, but when it came to controlling Eren…Armin needed as much help as possible.

That being said, Armin’s discussion with Erwin (which took nearly no time at all) was cut short by Eren’s beat down from Levi for picking a fight and commenting on Levi’s height. Armin could only watch in minute horror as Eren received the beating of a lifetime, but he knew somewhere deep down that Eren deserved some of it. Armin also noticed the murderous glint in Mikasa’s eyes when she looked at Levi after that. She went straight to Eren’s aid and she’d remained by Eren’s side ever since.  She kept her cool gray gaze on Eren when he walked ahead of her, and over time something else started developing in that stare and Armin could only assume what that “something” was. Eren never took notice, but when Mikasa wasn’t there, he would tend to mope around without anything to do. Armin believed it was a sign.

Despite the safety of joining Erwin’s faction, Armin once again found himself in a useless position. Yes, Erwin and he would spend hours running reports and managing the building that became Headquarters. Even though Erwin expressed his appreciation for him, he still felt…weak. Here he was sitting inside an office all day, even when there were wars occurring, with nothing to do. Eren got to exhibit his character as the god of Wrath and Mikasa got to lay waste as the goddess of Strength. The two of them were practically invincible, the way they would fight as if they were in sync, it was amazing.

It made Armin jealous.

When Levi asked him whether he wanted to be strong or wise, Armin was tempted to say strong instead. That was the most important right? The strongest god was the most respected, if he could just be powerful, maybe he would have a better sense of confidence. But instead, Armin had answered wise. He didn’t know why, but wisdom seemed to be a rare trait for a god to have. Levi had seemed pleased with his answer and walked off without a word, as usual.

Armin, Eren, and Mikasa were the first members to join Erwin’s faction aside from Levi and their friend Mike. Mike wasn’t in the office as often as everyone else, Levi would say that he was simply on “errand duty” for most of the time, but Armin believed there was more to the story. When Armin had first met Mike, he was sniffed and given a curious look, neither came with an explanation. He tried to take it in stride when he worked at his desk and Mike would wander in soundlessly and simply stare over his shoulder to see what he was doing. With the only sound of him breathing behind him, Armin would spend more time concentrating on not shaking rather than his actual work. The only words Mike had said to Armin directly were “good morning” and “good job today”. Although he was a man of few words, Mike appeared to be awfully close to Erwin and Levi. The three would cram into the conference room for hours talking; even though Armin couldn’t hear them through the soundproof glass walls, it was amazing to see Mike’s mouth open every now and then with words he never offered anyone else. Knowing better, Armin never asked about it and over time Mike starting speaking more freely to him and they would discuss strategies and help manage the gods that still remained unmarked in the city. Mike and Armin devised a file in which they would keep track of every god they could recruit and try to keep them under control to avoid attention from the Main Branch.

The Main Branch was something gave Armin chills whenever it was mentioned, a terrifying council that consisted of the gods of Misery, Passion, Hope, and Guidance. These four gods stood as the pinnacle of Headquarters and each stood as ruling officers over the gods that fell into their jurisdiction. Gods that fell under “Misery” were gods who inflicted pain and suffering onto others and were considered the most powerful and difficult to manage, understandably, Eren belonged in this category. Gods of “Passion” were those who stood for a single emotion or state and could inflict that emotion onto others. They were considered the second tier when it came to danger and ability. The “Hope” category was reserved for gods who stood as humanity’s last resort and were usually born from dying wishes. Armin knew that Erwin belonged in this category as the god of Justice, but his superiority over the others made Armin question the way the system really worked. The lowest tier belonged to “Guidance” which stood for the gods who had the job of maintaining control of both humanity and the other gods. Armin and Mikasa were both gods of this category, but neither had ever met the god who stood for it. The four gods held council somewhere in the building, but never showed their faces to anyone except Erwin. Although the presence of the Main Branch instilled fear in the few members of Erwin’s faction, it helped Armin organize the incoming gods that Levi managed to bring in.

The next two to be recruited were Reiner and Bert, two truly unique men indeed. Reiner was a large man with a strong presence, and he represented War almost as well as Eren stood for Wrath. However, after Armin spoke to him a few times, he saw that Reiner was actually one of the most caring and passionate people he’d ever met. Despite his seemingly random rampages (which Erwin managed to subdue through sleeping darts), Reiner hated violence. After so many years of killing and witnessing the devastation caused by war, he had begun to hate the concept itself. It was a dangerous ideology for a god to develop; to begin to refuse the identity you were born as was nearly the same as denying your existence. In fear for Reiner’s position, Armin kept quiet about Reiner’s behavior and hoped that Reiner would be able to come to terms with himself over time. Reiner had been brought into Headquarters with a man taller than himself, but who had a presence a little less demanding who went by the name of Bertholdt. Armin saw him as a very loyal person since he stuck to Reiner’s side like glue; it reminded Armin of the way he was with Eren not too long ago. He was also curious about their story; they were closer than anyone else and almost seemed to share the same thoughts when they moved in unison. Bertholdt wasn’t a fighter, but he became someone extremely important to the faction. He had a small presence as the god of Morality, but a strong presence as Reiner’s stability. Only Bertholdt could calm Reiner down without any physical restraint; it was a mystery to the entire building yet no one tried to question it. Erwin took it as it was and went on to more important things, which were piling up faster than he could imagine.

 Ymir followed soon after, a very outspoken woman who held the title as the goddess of Lust. She refused to censor herself and made her wants and opinions clear whenever they had meetings. She wouldn’t hesitate to pick fights with Eren or make inappropriate comments throughout the day, but she was an honest person, which Armin appreciated.

The next duo to show up was Connie and Sasha. Sasha saw the world with wide brown eyes, a heavy haze of constant hunger, and need for entertainment. Although she couldn’t sit still in the conference room for more than ten minutes, she could remain immobile and focused when it was important. She stood as the goddess of the Hunt and proved to be irreplaceable when Erwin needed long distance attacks during human wars. The only person to keep Sasha’s attention was Connie, the god of Levity, who kept the humor in headquarters alive. He would try relentlessly to get Erwin and Levi to laugh, but he hadn’t succeeded yet (Armin wasn’t giving up on him). He accepted the abuse from Ymir and tried to keep Eren on the positive side; Connie was truly the ice breaker in Headquarters.

And then a small blonde girl by the name of Christa joined Headquarters soon after. Ymir took one look at the goddess of Prosperity and altered her personality in an instant. She went from loud and crude to gentle and flattering; she latched herself onto Christa as if she were a leech ready to suck out the innocence from the poor little girl. Christa took a keen liking to Ymir, despite her demanding behavior, and managed to keep yet another god in order (to Erwin’s relief). She would constantly visit Erwin and Levi’s offices with flowers or fruit baskets and made sure that they weren’t working too hard. It only took two days after she showed up for the entire building to fall in love with her; she made the atmosphere clearer, she made Levi less grumpy, Erwin smiled more. However Ymir claimed her. If you tried to get too close, she’d jump out at you or threaten you in more ways than one. So Armin could officially label Christa and Ymir as a done deal.

 

Jean was dragged into Headquarters a little while later, literally forced into the building by Levi and an emotionless Mike. After sitting in Erwin’s office for nearly an hour, Jean came back out to meet the nearly complete team Erwin had assembled. Jean wasn’t a friendly person at the time; his words were layered with heavy sarcasm, he’d snap at whoever managed to get in his way, and he refused to associate with everyone else. Jean became the biggest threat to Erwin’s faction in a matter of minutes. As the god of Calamity, Jean was shrouded in instability and the craving for destruction. He loved to set things off and cause havoc throughout the city; one of the worst situations that Armin witnessed was the time when Eren and Jean got into a fight outside of Headquarters.

It had been a calm and sunny Saturday afternoon, Armin and Erwin were finalizing files and setting them aside to deal with the new blueprints for the building when lightning struck. It was a strike so powerful it shattered the windows and shook the building as if an earthquake had spread through the city. By the time Erwin and Levi made it outside, the sky had turned black and the entire street had been destroyed: overturned cars, cracked pavement that led to massive crater in the center, smashed storefronts, and exploded sewers were only a few of the disasters they stood among. The clash between the god of Wrath and the god of Calamity resulted in the destruction of the Karanese district and marked another gradual problem in Erwin’s book. Although Eren’s behavior could be managed, no one knew how to control Jean. His behavior was unpredictable, his eyes were unreadable, and his personality was unreachable. He isolated himself from the group and no matter how hard Armin tried…Jean wouldn’t comply.

Right when everyone planned on giving up…Jean changed. It was so sudden, even Erwin was in shock when Jean started coming to meetings and hanging around to listen about what people had to say. He never apologized for what he had done, but he put on a new and more casual personality as opposed to before. Armin never knew the reason why, but he had a strange feeling that Jean’s behavior would come in waves; one moment he would be fine, and the next he would spiral back into his rampant character. Just like how it was for most of them, his stability wouldn’t last long.

The last person to join was Annie. She was a rather quiet girl who watched everyone with a frozen blue gaze and shifted away from conversation. She would sooner be on her own than around anyone else and she became the most mysterious person in the group.

By the time she showed up, Armin had grown used to watching from the sidelines; those who were strong were the ones who fought, and those who were weak stayed back to keep everything in order. It was the way things were and that was how it would always be. The others were able to accept their simple roles as minor gods, why couldn’t Armin?

The only person who seemed to disagree with this system was Annie.

            “Why don’t the weak get any say in what they do with their life?” she asked him one day; it was one of the first things she had said to Armin after they met. Her question made him furrow his brows and look at her in confusion. Annie had never disagreed when Armin called himself weak, another difference from the other members at HQ. Of course the other members only said what they had to say out of courtesy, but Annie just let Armin talk without denying his words. Armin didn’t know the answer to Annie’s question, so he could only ask, “What do you mean?”

            “Even a weak person can decide who and what to die for.” She focused her magnetic blue eyes on Armin and turned to walk away before she glanced over her shoulder. “Sometimes you have to give in order to gain.”

Armin remembered the room dropping in temperature after she left, as if Annie had sucked out all of the life and warmth from the building with just her words. He later learned that Annie was the goddess of Sacrifice, which also helped him understand why Annie would sometimes call herself weak as well. She may not have been the goddess of Strength or the god of Calamity, but Annie still gave off a powerful aura. She _looked_ powerful, even if she spent her days alone and her nights out in the courtyard staring into her little fire pit. Before he joined her at the fire, Armin gave Annie’s words a lot of thought. Even though Armin could admit that he was weak, he wanted to change. He wanted to be a reliable friend who could stand up to defend his friends when the time came. He wanted to be _strong_.

Annie didn’t seem very impressed with Armin’s answer.

            “You’re so focused on being strong, but what’s wrong with being weak?”

Armin trained his eyes on the jumping flames. Annie never failed when it came to taking him off guard. “Everything’s wrong with being weak! You can’t protect your friends…you can’t stand up for yourself!”

            “…it depends on what you define _strong_ as Armin.” Annie’s voice softened and Armin could see the flames reflected in her eyes. What did he define strong as? Physical strength? Mental strength? What made someone strong? Armin thought he knew, he really did, but now as he stared into the dancing wisps of fire, he was beginning to question everything again.

            “I believe…” Annie’s quiet voice mingled with the crackling of the wood in front of them. “Those who are able to abandon something for the sake of someone else are strong. Even if it’s for your own sake; you need to understand the power of sacrifice.”

Armin listened to her words carefully that night. They were the only words exchanged between them, the rest of the night consisted of them sitting in silence and watching the smoke rise into the air until the fire died. Even after Annie left, Armin remained in his spot, looking up at the starless city sky wondering what made him so naïve. To be able to give up something in order to protect someone or something else, that took a lot. It wasn’t something _anyone_ could do, but Armin…Armin could do that. If it meant protecting the lives of his friends, there wasn’t anything Armin wouldn’t do. That’s why he helped Erwin make plans; it was the only thing he could physically do to help. Yeah, he wasn’t necessarily giving up anything, but that was his job.

He came back a few days later to join Annie once again. They didn’t talk at first but simply enjoyed the silence and each other’s company by the fire. Armin had taken notice that Annie spent most of her time alone, she never socialized with anyone except Erwin and that was on rare occasions. Armin felt the need to include her into the group so she could at least feel welcome. He would tell her stories about the silly things Reiner and Connie pulled when she wasn’t around and about the little fights Jean and Eren had been getting into lately, but the stories only put a little humor behind her stone cold eyes.

            “I think your friends also make you a stronger person Armin.” Annie said as she poked the fire with a stick. Her expression was unreadable, but the fire’s glow seemed to soften her features. “You light up when you talk about them.”

Armin could feel a rush of heat go to his face. Wh-what was she saying? “I thought sacrifices made you strong?”

Annie lifted a corner of her mouth and tossed the stick into the flames. “Not _just_ sacrifices. I also said that it was my opinion.” She paused for a while before she continued. “Friends motivate you to fight for them, I…I don’t have that so I can’t tell you whether it makes you stronger or not. I’ve only known how to fight for myself.”

Armin swallowed the lump in his throat and scooted closer to the fire. His hands were shaking as he became increasingly nervous. “You…sure are talking a lot tonight, aren’t you? I-I mean it’s nice! I’m glad! I just…uh….”

Annie glanced at Armin and smiled for the first time. It wasn’t an obvious smile, but Armin could see it because he was _looking._ If you could break through her frozen and reserved exterior, you could see the radiant and confident person she was. She didn’t care what people thought of her because she knew who she was. She kept her blonde hair pinned back because only she could know how beautiful it looked when she put it down. Armin felt like he was seeing Annie for the first time, unveiled.

            “Talking a lot huh…” Annie tilted her head back to look at the sky with a faraway look in her eyes. “I wonder why…?”

Armin dropped his eyes back down to the fire and swallowed the lump in his throat. “You know Annie…”

Annie’s eyes moved from the sky to Armin’s face. The cool night hair ruffled her hair and carried the scent of her shampoo.

            “I was just wondering…if there was a reason why you’re always out here lighting bonfires.”

Annie kept her gaze locked on Armin’s face before she lowered her head and pulled out a picture. It was so old and worn around the edges that Armin could hardly recognize that it was Annie in the picture. She stood next to a man who looked much older than her and the background seemed to be a park or a field.

            “This man was like a father to me.” Annie told him as she held up the photo. “He taught me almost everything I know today: martial arts, how to cook and write, and the meaning of sacrifice. In other words, this photo means a lot to me.”

Armin nodded, that much he could understand. Annie took another look at the photo and, to Armin’s horror, tossed the photo into the flames. It went up in a cloud of smoke and sent embers fluttering into the sky.

            “Annie! What are you doing?” Armin realized he was shouting once he heard his voice echo through the empty courtyard. Annie calmly watched the flames and let out a little sigh.

            “It was just a picture. Losing it doesn’t mean anything.”

That may be true, but didn’t she just say that the photo meant a lot to her? She just threw away something that important to her as if it were nothing!

            “I don’t understand Annie.”

            “That man was important to me. Having his photo doesn’t mean anything Armin. Just because I burned the photo doesn’t mean I lost the memory.” Annie scooted back in her seat and folded her hands over her stomach. “The first start to sacrifice is giving up physical things. Once you can manage that, you learn how to handle giving up more important things.”

Giving up physical things? Armin leaned back in his seat and wracked his brain for something that he could give up.

            “You don’t have to do anything tonight Armin.” Annie murmured beside him. “It was to answer your question, why I light the fire. A lot of people see fire as destruction, but I see it as a type of cleansing. You can get rid of a lot of burdens with fire.”

Armin didn’t realize he was fumbling in his pockets until Annie spoke. He would have to bring something next time for sure to see what exactly Annie was talking about. As long as Annie wasn’t cutting the throats of animals as a sacrifice, Armin was grateful for her company.

 

Armin came back the next night to find Annie in her usual spot by the fire, poking at it idly with a stick. She took notice of Armin’s presence, but didn’t say anything when he came to stand beside her.

            “I once met a man who had been to all seven continents.” Armin kept his eyes trained on the fire and tightened his grip on the object in his hands. “He told me about all of the different people he met, the different landscapes, the different animals, everything.”

Annie looked up at him with an intrigued look.

            “He also wrote everything in a journal, and I mean _everything_.” Armin held up the small bundle in his hand for Annie to see. He rubbed his thumb over the familiar leather cover as he chose his next words. “He gave it to me before he died, and I’ve read it so many times, I could swear I memorized it. It was like hearing him re-telling the story through the pages.”

            “So the man lives through that journal?” Annie’s voice was quiet and her eyes focused on the book in Armin’s hands.

Armin nodded. “I had a lot of respect for that man, I still do. I thought that it was amazing that he got to see the world in such a short life.” He took a step closer to the fire and held out the journal. “Even so, this journal isn’t him. It’s his story and it doesn’t belong to me, I’ve just held onto it for so long I began to feel like it was.” Without giving himself time to think about it, Armin tossed the book into the fire. The flames licked at it and burned away the pages, leaving behind a strong smoky smell behind. Armin backed away coughing and watched the smoke rise into the black sky. He felt strangely empty, and the small twinges of guilt were starting to hit him. It wasn’t easy giving something important up.

            “I’m impressed Armin.” Annie finally tore her gaze from the fire to look at him. “How did it feel?”

            “I don’t know.” Armin admitted and rubbed his arm sheepishly. “I feel kind of…sad?”

Annie smiled and tossed her stick in to the fire. “You’d be surprised at what some people have to give up.”

Armin looked at the ground and shuffled his feet. That was true, there were people around the world who had to give up so much, much bigger things than a little journal or a photo. People lost loved ones, homes, lives, and purpose. Armin didn’t have a right to stand here feeling sorry for himself for burning a book that he had nearly pinned to memory. It was certainly a lesson though, Armin didn’t have to burn something important every time he came to visit Annie, he just needed to know the feeling of loss and know that he’d be able to suffer through it later.

            “Annie.”

She glanced at Armin again, frozen in mid-reach for a new stick.

            “You should have everyone else at Headquarters do this…they would learn a thing or two from this.” Armin dropped into the seat next to her and released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.

            “I’m not stopping anyone from coming. I don’t think they would want to come in the first place.”

            “I’ll tell them about it! Is that alright?” Annie narrowed her eyes at Armin and measured his expression before she turned back to the fire.

            “Do what you want.”

Armin couldn’t help but feel bad. This bonfire kind of felt like a special moment between him and Annie, and here he was about to go out and invite everyone to it. It was for a good cause though; Armin truly believed that it would be nice to have everyone see what Annie was trying to get across, even if it was only once. That and it would bring Annie closer to the others.

 

So Armin spread the word around the building and refused to take no for an answer. He received the most negativity from Eren and Jean, which was to be expected.

            “Why the hell should I burn something that’s important to me?” Eren looked at him as if Armin were crazy. “And why the hell should I do it _for Annie_?”

            “Please Eren!” Armin brought his hands together and closed his eyes in the ultimate pleading gesture. “Can you just do this for me?”

Eren glared at Armin for a few seconds before he grumbled “Just this one time Armin.”

Jean eventually agreed after a long string of swears and a headlock from Reiner, and everyone else managed to come through in the end, to Armin’s relief. That night they all gathered around the fire, the typical silence was filled with everyone’s murmuring voices. Annie kept her usual blank face and distance as Armin announced how the sacrificial bonfire worked.

            “So the purpose is kind of ruined if I burn a bag of weed, right?” Eren snickered from next to Mikasa, who elbowed him in the ribs, hard. Erwin gave Levi a worried look and Levi glared at the fire as if he wanted it to consume everyone as the sacrifice. The only ones who appeared to be in good spirits were Reiner and Christa; they bounced in their seats next to each other in excitement.

They all went around in a circle discussing what their item was and how it was important to them, and to Armin’s surprise, everyone took it seriously, including Eren. Annie watched the different objects go up in flames, a little fire of her own seemed to burn in her eyes all the while, and Armin found himself smiling. After everyone made their sacrifices, the group brought out the beer and launched itself into a game of “Never have I ever” which Armin interpreted as “How much can we get out of Erwin and Levi”.

            “How exactly do you play this game?” Erwin narrowed his eyes, but still kept his always-stoic expression. Armin could see the regret in his eyes for coming to this event. Levi stiffened next to him and kept his eyes trained on the gate as if he were planning his escape. He eyed the beer in his hand warily as if it would explode the moment he opened it.

            “Someone says something that they’ve never done, and if you’ve done it before, you take a sip of your drink.” Reiner wiggled his eyebrows at Erwin and grinned. “It’s a very interesting game, don’t you think?”

            “I don’t want to play.” Levi announced and tried to stand up, but Erwin gripped his shirt to pull him back into place. Erwin gave Levi a deathly serious look and hardened his gaze.

            “If I’m playing, you’re playing.”

Ymir whistled and leaned forward in her seat, cracking open her beer with a quiet hiss. “This got real interesting real fast. I’m in.”

            “Never have I ever…” Reiner looked around the group with a devilish look on his face. “Taken a shit on someone’s doorstep.”

            “NOT COOL REINER!” Eren jumped up out of his seat, his face painted with blossoming rage. “That was one time!”

            “Well we all know who did that one.” Jean leaned back in his seat and let out a rare laugh. “Who the hell does that anyway, other than Eren?”

Levi clicked his tongue and glared at the ground. Was that supposed to mean something?

            “Never have I ever…” Ymir looked up at the sky as if she were searching for an idea, “had sex with someone for money.”

No one moved to take a drink. Reiner exchanged an awkward glance with Levi and quirked up one of his eyebrows.

            “What the hell Ymir?” Eren slowly sank back into his seat and gave her a disgusted look. “That’s the worst one I’ve ever heard.” Ymir gave him the finger and shook her head at the group.

            “I predicted at least two people to drink to that.”

            “Never have I ever…” Connie glanced at Sasha. “Gotten so drunk that I stripped off my clothes and passed out in the presence of strangers.”

Sasha groaned and took a gulp out of her beer along with Bert, Reiner, Ymir, and…Christa? Armin watched Levi glare at Erwin accusingly with a devilish look on his face. He kept mouthing the words ‘drink it’, but stopped when the whole group turned to look at them.

            “Erwin.” Ymir had one of her Cheshire grins on her face as she waved her beer in the air. “Are you sure?”

            “Positive.” Erwin’s voice was flat.

            “Oh come on!” Sasha’s voice went up at least two octaves. “Not even once?”

When Erwin didn’t respond, Reiner cleared his throat. “I’ll go again. Never have I ever…eaten ass.”

            Connie gasped in horror just as Erwin’s mouth dropped open. Levi pressed his fist against his mouth, but kept his steel-hard gaze on the fire while the group broke out into laughter.

            “I don’t believe that at all. Bert! Is that true?” Ymir shouted across the fire. Bert quickly looked down and shrunk from her gaze. He was lucky the glow from the fire hid the color rising in his face.

            “Please…don’t look at me.”

            “I swear it’s true.” Reiner scrubbed at the tears in his eyes. “Eren I didn’t see you drink!’

            “Fuck you Reiner, I’ve never eaten ass either!”

The game fell apart there. Erwin and Levi both jumped up and nearly bolted out of the courtyard while Reiner and Eren launched into a shouting contest over the fire. Jean eventually got up and left and Connie and Sasha ran away with the rest of the beer before any questions could be directed at them. Armin glanced over to see Annie’s expression; she watched the commotion with a slightly less cold expression than she had before, she was definitely amused by what was happening around her.

            “They aren’t so bad, are they?” Armin leaned to speak near her ear so she could hear him. She jumped in surprise and widened her blue eyes before she smirked.

            “They’re…interesting.”

Armin laughed and watched Eren storm off with Mikasa chasing after him and Reiner’s victory dance with Bertholdt a little too close to the fire for comfort. It was a pretty productive night; Armin managed to get everyone in Headquarters out, which never happened other than meetings that were arranged by Erwin. It was certainly not an easy feat for Armin to do, but what he really hoped was that Annie enjoyed herself tonight more than she would have if she had been alone.

Armin did feel the newfound energy bubbling in his body from being around his friends, maybe Annie was right. Maybe his friends made him stronger. Armin didn’t really know what he would define strength as, but he knew now that strength was not simply something physical. It was so much more than that, a combination of factors and traits that a person happened to have. Not only that, but there was more than one type of strength out there and everyone had their own, Armin included. He no longer felt stressed or desperate to find out what that strength exactly was, but as long as he knew what kind of a person he was, he would be fine.

And he had Annie to thank for that.

               

 

                 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for continuing to read, and thank you so much to those who found this and decided to give it a go. You guys rock! Up next, Jean and Marco get to know each other more!  
> ^^^  
> I wonder who else has taken a shit on someone's doorstep? :3 Haha Levi had his rowdy days!  
> But yeah next chapter is some lovely Jean and Marco conversing and "spring cleaning"! I like to think of the alternate title for chapter 5 as "Creepin' in the Park" but that just wouldn't fly. Thanks for reading guys! I'd write more but my cat is sleeping on my arm and it's really hard to write...


	5. Blackout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean decides to use his godly powers for once, and meets someone who should have forgotten him. And why do his memories keep threatening to overtake him? Was it that impossible to forget the past?

Once you live in the city long enough, you begin to forget what the stars look like. You know that they’re there, but it’s hard to believe when you can’t see them. Jean couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen the stars; ten, maybe twenty years? He couldn’t even remember the last time he had left the city. Yet for some strange reason he wanted to see the stars tonight, so he took a walk. His feet led him to one of the parks near his apartment, which was only a little ways away from the street Headquarters was on, and not that far of a distance. Considering it was “dark” out‒it was never dark in this city, there were blinding lights everywhere‒the park was completely empty. Whether it was the headlights of passing cars on the street or the bright ass street lamps, the city was always lit. However, the light made the sky an ominous black, as if stars didn’t even exist in this part of the city’s sky.

Jean sat on one of the swings and let out a sigh. It wasn’t so cold that he could see his breath anymore, but the wind still made him shiver. He watched the cars drive by for a few moments from his perch until he checked the time on his phone.

It was almost ten-thirty and the temperature read twenty degrees. Jesus, it was _March,_ when was the weather going to get its shit together?

Jean still had his plan to carry out (Operation: reveal the stars); he had originally decided that he’d start his scheme at eleven, but the weather wasn’t permitting Jean’s patience tonight. Saying that Jean couldn’t stand the cold was an understatement; he _despised_ winter with a burning passion that could possibly rival the deepest pits of Hell. If that wasn’t clear enough, he hated winter more than Eren, by a long shot.

Jean couldn’t help but sneer (he was almost sure that it was one of his more wicked ones) and clapped his hands together once. The sound echoed through the empty park and lingered in the cold air, giving Jean a weird sense of satisfaction.

Seconds later, the lights in the city shut off in a ripple from left to right; buildings turned black in the night and streetlamps flickered off, leaving the city in suspended darkness. The traffic lights dimmed out, but cars continued to maneuver their way through the dark streets with only their headlights to guide them.

The city had probably never experienced a complete power-failure like this one before, and Jean predicted that it would take a while for them to figure how to get it back on. Oh the joy of being the god of misfortune.

Ha, yeah right. The only joy Jean would be experiencing tonight was the stars; if they even wanted to come out for him, which Jean doubted. He must look like the cover-shot of some sad teenage book anyone could find at the bookstore; sad young man sitting alone on the swings in an abandoned park. He only finds solace in the stars and the comfort of the dark, as if he just _radiated_ loneliness.

Jean could admit that he was lonely, really fucking lonely actually. But once you live the same way for so long, you get kind of scared of changing that way of living. That was his price to pay for being immortal, but it wasn’t like Jean _wanted_ this. What did he want? Would he be happier if he could die like everyone else? Did he want to condense his years into eighty short ones and try to live that way? Jean didn’t know what he wanted anymore.

As Jean waited for the stars to show up, he couldn’t help but think about Marco. It had been a little more than a week, Jean knew he was now the farthest thing from Marco’s memory.

 And that was for the best. The farther from Jean he was, the safer Marco would be. Jean considered himself lucky that he even got to meet such a nice guy; he was also one of the few humans that caught Jean’s attention…it kind of felt like a waste.

What the hell was thinking? Did Jean _miss_ him? Was that the emotion he was feeling? Jean didn’t know that either, but what he did know was that the entire city was surrounded in darkness now.

“Where the fuck are the stars?” Jean growled and rocked himself on the swing set. The thing was so old that it creaked with every swing, as if it couldn’t support his weight. Jean could guarantee that fatter children sat on this swing; it had no right to complain.

_Fuck you swing I’m not that heavy._

He groaned, the sound blended in with the swing’s cries, and began to dig a hole underneath the swing with his boots. When he heard footsteps coming towards him, Jean felt a small sense of dread spread through him. It was enough to make him freeze, as if he could morph into the darkness and disappear from sight; now _that_ would be a cool ability. There was only one thing going through Jean’s mind at this point.

_Oh no it’s a pervert._ It’s not like Jean couldn’t defend himself, it just sounded like a situation that Jean _definitely_ did not want to be a part of. Plus, it wouldn’t even be a funny story to tell anyone; well, okay maybe Ymir and Reiner would get a kick out of it, but how weird would it be to say “Hey, last night I got harassed by some pervert in the park…” No. Not cool.

            “Jean?” a familiar voice called out in the dark. At first Jean was shocked that the pervert knew his name until he realized the whole pervert thing was just his imagination running wild again. This voice belonged to someone who shouldn’t remember his name.

            “Marco?” he couldn’t stop his surprise from leaking through his voice. He knew he was just thinking about Marco, but this was ridiculous. It was almost eleven at night and he was at an abandoned park for fuck’s sake! Did he summon Marco by accident?

_You can’t summon humans you jackass._

            “What are you doing here?” Marco’s figure slowly came into Jean’s view. A bright white light flashed through Jean’s retinas, leaving him blind and with his eyes burning.

            “Jesus!” Jean shielded his eyes and leaned away from it. “I was going to ask you the same thing!” Jean heard shuffling and risked opening one of his eyes again. Small flecks of light danced in the edges of his vision as he tried to focus on the man in front of him.

            “Sorry!” Marco quickly put away his phone and the light disappeared. He took a seat on the swing next to Jean and let out an airy laugh. “Well I was taking a walk around the block when the power went out all of a sudden. Then I happened to see someone in the park that looked like you, and I was right.”

            “You should be sleeping.” Jean kicked a clump of dirt and frowned. “And why would you take a walk at eleven at night?” Jean tried to put out the thought that Marco had recognized him from a distance, and in the dark. He would be a very terrifying stalker, if he wasn’t already.

Marco spun around on the swing, twisting the chains as he did so. “I’m kind of an insomniac, so this isn’t that weird…You’re one to talk Jean, why are you here?”

            “I came to see the stars.” It came out without Jean even thinking about it. He looked up to see that a few small specks of light were actually starting to dot the black sky. He gave Marco a teasing look before he pushed off and started to swing. He silently hoped that the swing wouldn’t break under him. “Do you usually, uh, come to this park?” _Do you normally creep around at night?_

            “Yeah, it’s a pretty calming place don’t you think?” Marco had turned his attention to the stars. Despite the cold, he still had his jacket slightly unzipped to expose his neck and the pool of freckles that gathered at his collarbone. Was the guy immune to the cold or something? Jean kept his jacket zipped up as far as it would go; tonight he was also sporting his favorite blue hat, like hell he’d leave his neck exposed like that. The cold took lives, and that was a fact.

            “You’re not a pervert are you?” Jean couldn’t help but ask; he certainly couldn’t stop the grin from stretching across his face.

Marco’s flustered face was priceless. “P-pervert? What the hell Jean? No! Of course not!”

            “Uh-huh.” Jean laughed and stopped moving his legs as he swung. He was starting to realize that swings actually made him kind of nauseous. _How the hell were swings fun?_

Marco let out a sigh before he shook his head and let out a low murmur. “You’re probably the pervert.”

            “Oh no, you caught me.” Jean rubbed his hands together to warm them when he finally came to a stop. “But my plan is a little faulty ‘cuz it turns out that kids don’t come to the park _at eleven o’clock at night_.”

Marco tilted his head back and laughed. It was a genuine laugh, the kind of laugh that made Jean think that he was actually funny. It was also dangerously contagious and Jean found himself laughing with him, their laughter filling the silence of the empty park. Once their laughing died down, Jean tightened his grip on the chains and exhaled out his nose, ignoring the burn from the cold air. When was the last time he had laughed like that? Laughing until his stomach ached, that was…a pretty nice feeling.

            “How old are you Marco?”

Marco wiped a tear from his eye and smiled, his teeth a flash of white in the dark. “I’ll be twenty-two in June.”

            “Barely legal, huh?” Jean started to dig his little ditch again. Maybe a kid will fall in it tomorrow when they try to get on the swings. Bam! Misfortune strikes again. “Drinking-wise, that is.”

The corner of Marco’s mouth quirked up a little at that. “Yeah, I guess. I’m not much of a drinking person though. What about you?”

            “I’ll be twenty-three next month.” That was a lie; it was just his default age of course. His real age was probably somewhere between two-hundred and twenty, give or take a decade. He didn’t know the exact date, no god knew theirs, and it’s not like it even mattered. It’s not like he could celebrate his birthday or anything unless he had a bunch of human friends, which Jean did not have. “You don’t drink, but you’re a college student?”

Marco shook his head. “I’m in pre-med so I don’t have a lot of time for that kind of thing.”

_Pre-med?_

Jean let out a whistle. “Wow, you want to be a doctor? That’s…huge.”

Marco turned a little pink and scratched the back of his head. “Yeah, it was what I wrote about in kindergarten as one of my future jobs. I guess I just haven’t changed.”

Jean nodded. Of course Marco wanted to be a doctor; it was such a nice-guy thing. ‘I want to help the world!’ The level of positivity from this kid almost gave Jean more chills than the cold air surrounding him.

            “What do you want to do Jean?” Marco’s question took him completely by surprise. He froze with his foot in mid-air from kicking the dirt and scowled at the mess he’d made. If he kept this up, he’d be the one to fall in the ditch, not some kid.

            “I…want to live an easy life.” Jean replied. It was the truth; not the complete truth, of course. It wasn’t like Jean could slap his resume in front of Marco and proudly announce himself as a god. He had to play human, he had to play a part as a character he’d spent decades making in order to fit in. “I’m kind of lazy so…I’m still not sure what I’m going to do.”

_Except ruin the lives of others. Yeah, probably yours too Marco._

            “You’re still young.” Marco’s voice was soft and gentle. “I’m sure you’ll find something you want to do.”

Dammit now he was trying to make Jean feel better about himself? Well, at least Jean now knew what kind of person Marco was: almost the complete opposite of him. While Marco radiated positivity and compliments, Jean emitted negativity and sarcasm. It was almost like comparing the sun with shadows. Sitting next to Marco felt like being close to foreign territory; Jean began to wonder if Marco ate happiness and shat rainbows, it wouldn’t surprise him. The kid probably had his bad days like everyone else, but he looked like the kind of person who bounced back to their normal self. Then again, that was just Jean making assumptions, he didn’t know anything about Marco, but the world needed more people like him. It needed more people who pulled strangers out of the street and socialized with someone they had practically just met in a park at nearly eleven at night.

            “Yeah but time goes by really quickly.” Jean began to twist in his seat as Marco had done, and spun back around. “Don’t want my parents to think I’m a burn-out.” Essential lie number two, as if Jean had parents, and even if he did, they probably wouldn’t give two shits about him. As far as Marco knew yes, he had a birthday and yes, he had two parents. That made a good solid structure for his background. _I’m a regular human, see?_

            “Parents…” Marco repeated, but his voice dropped to nearly a whisper. Jean looked over in time to see Marco’s eyes narrow ever so slightly. “I think they put a little too much stress on us.”

            “They must be proud if you’re in pre-med though. You gotta have brains for that kind of stuff.” Jean held the chains tightly to stop himself from spinning around again so he could watch Marco’s expression. Did this kid have more behind him than what Jean thought? Maybe family was a touchy subject for him?

            “Proud.” Marco scoffed. He fucking scoffed, something Jean never pictured Marco doing. “My parents couldn’t care less. My mom wants me to be a lawyer and my dad wants me to go into business. I just can’t win.”

            “A lawyer and a businessman? Do they think that’s better than being a doctor?” Jean knew that the lawyer life paid pretty damn well (ahem Erwin) but doctors made a pretty nice sum of money too, didn’t they? He didn’t know much about businessmen, but money was money in this world. But it looked like Marco had problems of his own; it didn’t make Jean _glad_ , but more like _relieved_ that Marco wasn’t _too perfect_.

            “It’s just that they want me to be someone I’m not.” Marco looked down at his shoes and let out a small sigh. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my parents, but sometimes I don’t know what they expect from me, you know?”

Parents huh? Jean didn’t know anything about that kind of thing. He wondered if having a mom and dad was nice. It was also an interesting subject, were the parents responsible for what kind of person their child became? What kind of people were Marco’s parents?

Jean only had a glimpse of what a parent was. An old man named Gus who raised Jean during his earlier years was all he had. Every god got a human caretaker, but none of them were the same. Jean spent the first fifty years of his life with him, an old man with dim gray eyes, an unwavering smile, and a frozen lifespan. It was decided long ago that the best people to raise gods, those who sprouted from the desires of humans in the first place, were well-experienced humans. However, humans didn’t live long enough to cater to the god’s babysitting job, which took a good forty or fifty year chunk out of the god’s “extensive” lifespans, so a new idea was proposed. To grant a human the opportunity of immortality in return for their never-wavering loyalty appeared to be the most generous gift a god could offer; it wasn’t surprising that nearly every human granted that power went insane after the first hundred years into their immortality.

 Gus would tell Jean about the world he had lived in and the humans that occupied it, these strange creatures (in Jean’s opinion) that wandered through the world looking for a purpose. They would go through such lengths as getting respectable jobs, walking the world in search of something, advocating the rights for others no different from themselves, or spending their life searching for the answer to the universal human question: Why do we exist? Jean couldn’t understand why humans were so obsessed with the concept; what if there wasn’t a reason? What would they do?

As a god, Jean could easily answer the question; he existed because humans wanted him to. He existed for the sake of someone else. Couldn’t it be the same for humans? What Jean couldn’t comprehend was the concept of having a “purpose”; he thought it was the same answer to why he existed. His purpose was to cause calamity because that’s what he was born as, and he was born in this form because he was desired. It didn’t feel wrong, the whole situation of having such little time to figure out a seemingly more complex idea than Jean could understand was rough.

He pitied Gus. He hated how such a small amount of time had wrinkled his skin and dulled the light in his eyes. How his hair had lost the fullness Jean thought every human had; how time slowly left Gus struggling to remember what it was like to be human.

 Gus would always direct his kindness at Jean, he’d refuse to punish him as severely as the other gods wanted when Jean did something wrong, and that happened a lot. Jean lashed out because the other gods treated him differently from the others, and over time he slowly came to understand that no one _wanted_ calamity. No one wanted it, yet for some reason Jean was born from that small flicker of hatred someone harbored in the back of their mind but continued to deny that it was there.

For some reason Gus treated Jean like he was actually wanted‒and that meant a lot to him. One of the last things he had told Jean was to find his purpose, and that it was completely different from the reason of his existence. He told him that purpose was a personal reason for existing, a guide to how he’d spend the rest of his eternity. Of course Jean didn’t know what Gus was going on about at the time, but now…Jean could see why humanity’s spent such a long time trying to figure it out. After Gus moved on to his next job, Jean wondered what his true purpose was, surely it couldn’t be raising other gods; he probably didn’t even know that they existed until he was summoned. Gus wasn’t even a terribly devout or pious man, in fact, Jean didn’t think that he was religious at all. No one knew how humans were chosen, but there’s never been one to refuse the offer; they all ended up corrupted in the end.

When Jean looked at Marco, he could see a little of Gus in him; that kind and humble look they gave Jean were the same.

Jean tilted his head to look back at the stars. The sky was breathtaking now; stars occupied it in incredible patterns and sparkled like a million tiny diamonds. This was the shit Jean missed. That otherworldly feeling he got when he drew imaginary lines connecting the constellations was priceless; a lot of people took simple things like this for granted and missed out on it. When would the city be lit only by the light of the stars again? Never. This wasn’t even a calamity; Jean had given the city a chance to see something that should be seen every night.

            “Maybe the stars will make you feel a little better.” Jean stood up and dusted off the legs of his jeans, which were now covered in dirt. “I can’t remember the last time I’ve seen them, it’s a pretty rare occasion.” He offered Marco a quick smile and slipped his hands into his pockets to prevent them from freezing.

Marco slowly stood up and smiled, but it wasn’t one of his usual bright and happy ones. Something else occupied his mind, no doubtedly brought on by the mentioning of parents. Jean mentally noted that parents were a touchy subject for him, probably best to avoid that in the future. If they even had a future together.

 

            “You know…” Jean’s voice came out hesitant. He took a deep breath and rocked back on his heels before he tried to steady his voice. “I’m kind of surprised that you remembered my name.”

Marco looked at him in surprise. Those dark eyebrows arched and nearly shot to his hairline.  “You thought I forgot about you?”

Jean looked down at the ground and kicked up another cloud of dust. “It’s not like I’m anyone important…I’m just some guy you pulled out of the street.” _Way to make yourself sound like a hobo Jean._

            “Jean.” Marco’s voice turned serious. Jean dragged his eyes back up to Marco’s, those little pools of amber light. “I think you’re a great guy and I talked to you for almost two hours just the other day, how could I forget about you?”

Jean swallowed and tried to push away the heat that rose to his face. He dropped his gaze back down to his feet. When he spoke, his voice came out small and strained. “Thanks.”

            “I’d like to be your friend, if you don’t mind.” Marco added, whichtook Jean completely by surprise. Jean nearly broke his neck when he snapped his head up to meet Marco’s gaze again. Those fucking _intense_ amber eyes probed at Jean’s heart; God he wanted a _friend_ , he wanted _someone_.

_Don’t get attached Jean, you know what’s going to happen._

Jean swallowed again and turned to face Marco. The night breeze blew through Marco’s dark hair, ruffling it and stirring up the scent of his shampoo. A small constellation decorated his face, almost as complicated as the ones above them.

_Just tell him that you can’t. He’s no different than any other human, they’re all the same._

Marco didn’t feel like the same. He was different, yet he felt so familiar. He held warmth without being frozen from the cold.

Jean took a deep breath and said his words carefully. They were words with weight. They were words that would change his life. “I…would really like that.”

_Jean you are a fucking idiot._

Jean repeated the same phrase in his head at least a dozen times before he went to sleep that night. He had just put himself into one of the situations that he had been trying to avoid, and had managed to avoid for almost thirty years. Once he got attached to Marco, there was no going back. At this point, Jean felt like he was already attached. It was nearly the equivalent of Jean digging his own grave. It was all a matter of time now.

When would Marco notice that Jean wasn’t aging? Fifteen years? Less?

 Fifteen years was nothing to Jean, maybe a surprisingly long nap, but those fifteen years made a difference. His acceptance of Marco granted him a few years of potential happiness and the possibility of causing more collateral damage than Jean could ever wish upon himself.

 He was starting to wish he could dig a ditch in his apartment and just stay there for eternity, away from everything. He liked Marco, he really did, but was he worth the pain and suffering that Jean would experience because of him? Was Jean worth the pain and suffering Marco would suffer because of him? Hanging with the god of misfortune would only bring you…well, not good things, so why was he putting Marco at risk?

Dammit, this was all caused by his loneliness. He latched onto the first thing he could to heal himself and it had to be Marco. Maybe if he tried to think about it in a more positive way, he’d stop hating himself so much. But he couldn’t just _be positive_. Nothing in his life had shown that positive outlook did any good, so what could he do?

Jean pressed his pillow against his face and screamed into it.

_God I’m such a fucking idiot._

In the end, Jean couldn’t fall asleep with so much running through his head. He took advantage of his insomnia by cleaning the apartment; he had to work in the dark since the electricity was s _till_ out. Maybe he didn’t actually consider his actions before he shut off the power. So Jean crawled around on the floor in his bedroom on all fours, slowly gathering all the dirty clothes that had been his make-shift carpet for the past couple of weeks. He pushed the pile into the corner of the room and wiggled under his bed to find the stragglers: a couple of dirty socks, a pair of boxers, and an old bagel. So that’s where it went.

Once he gathered all of his clothes and tossed them into his hamper, Jean stalked into the kitchen. He cleaned his counters (which were surprisingly sticky) and started shuffling through his cabinet to throw out all of his stale cereal (more boxes than Jean would care to admit). Using his phone as a flashlight didn’t feel very productive either, considering it kept shutting off every thirty seconds or so.

Jean couldn’t exactly pinpoint the benefits of being a god. There wasn’t much of a difference in his life when it came to daily activities. He got hungry, and although he’d never tried, Jean was sure that he could starve if he didn’t eat. Gods got thirsty just like everyone else, and there were times when water and whatever they consumed had to come out, if you know what he meant. Showering was a good habit to keep, along with dental hygiene, it was all common sense. Gods were meant to blend into human society, so it made sense, but it was a little disappointing. Things would be a lot more convenient if Jean didn’t have to eat all of the time.

The garbage can was nearly full before Jean even started cleaning the fridge, which was the worst job Jean had ever decided to do. It wasn’t like he used his fridge a lot, he usually went out to eat or ordered food, but why did his fridge smell _so damn bad?_

The second Jean opened the door an unusual stench reached his nostrils and made him gag. Something had to have died in there to make that kind of smell. He slowly opened one of the trays at the bottom, the only place the stench could be coming from (considering the first shelf was filled with water bottles and the rest of the fridge was empty) and gasped in horror. Jean dropped on his butt and scooted as far away from the fridge as he could and plugged his nose.

_Holy. Shit._

He didn’t even know what it was, or at least, what it _used_ to be.

Whatever it was now, it was a mass of white and green fluff that had spread to cover the entire tray and almost made its way up the side. Jean half-expected it to jump out and attack him from where he sat on the floor. It was one of the most terrifying things he’d ever seen‒and he’d seen some scary shit, including Reiner naked‒Jean didn’t even know how to clean the _fucking Chia Pet_ growing in his fridge. The last thing he wanted to do was touch it, even with gloves, that shit was too fucking disgusting! Levi would have a stroke if he saw this kind of household duty abuse; Jean was nearly having one of his own.

 Jean quickly scooted back to the fridge and kicked the compartment shut with his foot before slamming the fridge door closed. It took a few moments for the air to lose the sour stench; Jean spent the entire time breathing with the collar of his shirt over his face.

He would deal with that later.

Jean got to his feet and took a deep breath of the not-poisoned-by-the-fridge air. What else was there to do? He walked down his hallway and opened the closet. How many years had it been since he tried to organize his things? When was the last time he tried to hide from his thoughts by cleaning? Neither had been within this decade, that’s for sure. All of his new clothes ended up stuffed in the dresser or in the closet in his room. Jean rarely even touched this closet, and no it wasn’t because he believed something lived in it (he didn’t believe, _he knew_ ). The reason why he never opened the hallway closet was because it was just a constant reminder.

Jean’s hand rested on the doorknob, but he didn’t move to open it. He knew exactly what he would find inside: boxes and boxes of things that had been taped up and stacked at the back and some old blankets that had probably accumulated a very musty smell. If there actually was something living in this closet (Jean suspected a bat), it was probably wrapped in those blankets, and Jean did not want to make that discovery tonight either. He didn’t want to look at the boxes that he swore to himself he’d never open again, he just didn’t want to remember.

Jean turned away from the door and made his way back to his room, giving the fridge a wary look as he passed it. Once he reached his bed, Jean threw himself onto the sheets and rolled into a burrito with the blankets. The cleaning had worn him out and surprisingly, managed to calm down his self-hatred to a more tolerable level. If he could just keep his mind clear before he went to bed…everything would be fine.

Jean could feel himself drifting in and out of sleep, the light from his alarm clock blurred in his vision, and Jean closed his eyes.

That night he dreamt about being attacked by mold.

Jean opened his eyes and blinked until his room came into focus. He heard noises coming from the kitchen, which was through the archway connecting to his room. With the fridge out of view from his bed, Jean could only watch the fridge light slowly spread across the gray tiles until it lit up the entire kitchen. The familiar disgusting stench of rotting food filled the air and Jean pulled his blankets up to his nose to block the smell.

Was the fridge coming to kill him out of revenge? Jean sat up and braced himself to go through the living room and possibly escape out a window or something before it was too late when he heard sounds coming from above him. Jean slowly looked up to see his white ceiling slowly turn an ugly brown, followed by the spread of white speckled mold across the surface. It travelled fast and ate away at the ceiling before moving down the walls toward Jean’s bed. The furniture started to erode and break way in nasty creaks and groans, even the floor began to dip in its deteriorating state. As Jean jumped off his now-molding bed, a large mass appeared at the archway and gave off a blinding light.

Jean stood facing his new enemy: the fridge. He didn’t have a choice, running was no longer an option; the mold spread across Jean’s bare feet and rooted him in place while travelling up his legs. He looked around for something, _anything_ to fight with, but how do you even defeat a fucking fridge? Standing in the middle of the room didn’t leave him with any options; he had to watch the fridge crack open its doors and spill its contents onto the floor. A dark and moldy mass made its way across the floor and dispersed around him until he was surrounded. Layers and layers of mold crawled over him, adding weight to the groaning floor.

Jean screamed as the ground gave out underneath him and sent him into a black vortex of nothingness. _This is it, this is where it ends_. Pins and needles jabbed at Jean’s arms and legs in the darkness as if it were sucking him in. This feeling of sharp prickling against his skin…no, this was…this wasn’t mold. The solid grazing of glass turned into liquid, but even without his sight, Jean knew what it was just by its metallic scent. It filled his mouth and ears, leaving him suspended in darkness and silence. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t breathe, this…this was…

Jean jolted awake and panicked when he couldn’t move his body. He thrashed in his bed until he fell off the edge and rolled out of his blanket and onto the floor. With his arms free, Jean yanked off his shirt and quickly ran his fingers through his wet hair. He was soaked with his own sweat and panting. The cold floor was a blessing to him right now; it cooled his back and kept him anchored to reality. Jean concentrated on taking deep breaths and focused on the, thank god, mold-less ceiling.

_It was just a dream, that’s all it was._

Jean took a shaky breath and let out a bitter laugh. Of course he would have a nightmare because of his fucking fridge, how insane was that? As if that would convince him to clean it any faster…

Jean craned his neck to read the alarm clock from his spot on the floor. It was only five-thirty; Jean had only managed to secure two hours of sleep. He was exhausted, his head was pounding, and his shoulder hurt from hitting the ground. Not only that, but he was shaken; he couldn’t calm his breathing and he couldn’t stop thinking about his dream. If it hadn’t morphed into something else, Jean wouldn’t have this problem, but all of his dreams ended with him drowning. He didn’t know what it meant, was that the way he was going to die? The only way to kill a god was by a specially crafted blade or the ultimate Smite, but that’s only a threat from other gods. What would happen if he drowned? Would the water miraculously part around him to prevent it? It was a mystery to him. It’s not like he wanted to know, he just wanted to sleep through the night without any nightmares for once. As if that could happen; Jean’s memories haunted his dreams so he could never escape, that’s all there was too it. The drowning, the smell of blood…

Jean ground his palms into his eyes to force out the images flickering behind his eyelids. The boxes in his closet weren’t the problem, it was the boxes Jean kept in his head; they were constantly threatening to open and spill their contents for Jean to relive every memory he had hidden away. Jean knew that the moment those boxes did open, he wouldn’t be able to pick everything up and put it back in its original place.

His throat was dry, but he was also too exhausted to move, and the floor was proving to be a pretty convenient bed. He gathered his blankets and covered himself once more, using the top of the comforter as a makeshift pillow. He curled into a fetal position, hugged his knees to his chest, and shut his eyes once more. He wanted nothing more than to shrink into nothing, to close his eyes and never wake up; that would be nice. Maybe it was just his sleep-deprivation making him dramatic.

Even so, Jean wasn’t feeling too great.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this guys! I hope you enjoyed the chapter, and look forward to the brewing storm in the next one…  
> ^^^  
> I'M SO SORRY GUYS THINGS HAVE BEEN CRAZY OMG THE WORK IS PILING UP ON ME!!!!  
> Everything's under control, don't panic.  
> I wonder what happens when you mix a sad Connie with Vodka?


	6. Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After Jean’s encounter with Marco, Connie decides to stop by and cause trouble. Or at least, discuss his own troubles and pry into Jean’s life. While drunk.

_I’d like to be your friend, if you don’t mind_

As if Jean could refuse something like that. As if he could push away something that he’d been craving for such a long time, something he had spent so long denying that it was necessary. Having immortal friends seemed like it would be the most beneficial to him; to have friends who shared the same suffering and who knew what it was like to be what they were.

 But…sometimes they got sick of each other, or they lost the feeling of friendship when nothing unique between them existed. Once he acquired so much information about someone, there was nothing interesting left to learn. Everyone became plain, everyone became predictable, and everyone paired up with someone else and lived as a couple rather than an individual. Jean, always being the odd one out, had to try and understand why this was the case. How did he grow so tired of the people around him, but no couple grew tired of each other? Was it just him? Did their love, or whatever they had, change how they viewed each other? It didn’t make sense to him, but it only made Jean want to know. He wanted to find someone of his own to call special, and that’d never happened before. He’d grown so tired of living in his world isolated from humanity that he latched onto the first human that reached out to him (literally). Even though this would negatively impact Marco, Jean still wanted it because he was selfish. He wanted the benefit of having someone, he wouldn’t necessarily grow too fond of him, but he still needed the company. That was all he wanted.

Yet for some reason Marco’s words still echoed in Jean’s mind as he drifted in and out of a (thankfully) dreamless slumber. He opened his eyes into bright light, closed them, and awoke into darkness over and over again until he lost track of time completely. His body felt too heavy to move, his bed was too soft to leave, and the world was too cruel to be in right now. He was just so damn tired and he didn’t know why. He couldn’t even remember when or how he had gotten off the floor and crawled into the comfort of his own bed, but it happened just like everything else. Things just happened.

Jean rolled onto his back and opened one of his eyes. He automatically recoiled when the light hit his retinas; a sudden blast of pain he was not expecting, but somehow anticipated in the back of his mind. He reached for the comforter that wasn’t there (Jean noticed later that it had fallen on the floor) and groaned when his phone started buzzing‒No, the phone had been buzzing the entire time; it was the noise that had woken him up in the first place‒That annoying vibrating coming from his nightstand forced him out of his drifting and drowsy state.

Jean considered ignoring it, but he had absolute zero patience once he woke up and he was having none of this. Without opening his eyes, Jean flipped onto his side and reached towards the noise coming from beside him. He smacked around the small table surface a couple of times and successfully knocked over a glass of something that Jean had forgotten was there. He let out a low string of swears until his fingers curled around his phone and pulled it back to his chest. He slowly peeled his eyes open, winced against the cruel sunlight, and unlocked his phone to find thirty new messages and ten missed calls. All of them were from Connie.

Jean’s eyes scanned the messages; the earlier ones didn’t catch his attention, just Connie asking about where he was and why he was being ignored, along with a bunch of poop emoticons. The most recent ones were slightly alarming‒specifically the one Jean just received.

**> >>From:  Bald Monkey**

**Yo Jean I’m comin over to ur place rite now so u bettr unlock ur damn door bfore I bust it down**

**No mercy man**

Jean snapped awake at that and tried to type out a cohesive message to tell Connie to spare him the trouble and just stay his ass at home. He only managed to type out a few words before Jean heard the unmistakable, loud, and obnoxious banging of someone on the other side of his front door. He stared into the living room in mild shock until the noise grew louder and echoed through the apartment. Knowing Connie, Jean had approximately twenty more seconds before Connie would actually try to kick down his door. Jean didn’t plan on paying for the damages, so he picked up his comforter off the floor on his way out of the bedroom and wrapped it around himself as a potential shield. He ran around the couch and quickly unlocked the front door to see the demon monkey himself standing with his hands on his hips and leg half-raised in a kicking position.

            “Took you long enough.” Connie narrowed his eyes at Jean’s appearance and pushed him aside as he moved to step inside the apartment. “Why didn’t you answer my messages man?”

Jean nudged the door shut with his foot and tightened his grip on the comforter. “I was sleeping.”

            “For four days?” Connie widened his eyes and gave Jean a worried look. His expression changed quickly; it went from worried to determined in a matter of seconds.  “Whatever, you’re spending the day with me pal.”

Jean blinked at him in confusion. Did Connie just say four days? He’d slept for four days straight without knowing? Yeah, he knew he lost track of time, but the last time that happened was…

Connie waited for Jean’s response with a challenging look in his eyes. It didn’t look like he was going to take no for answer. Jean derailed his thoughts and narrowed his eyes at the shorter guy in front of him; there was nothing of interest to him outside. In other words, this was where he would stay. Or, at least, just for today; maybe a week if he was lucky.

Jean wasn’t going down without a fight. “You woke me up from hibernation because you want to hang out?”

            “It’s your fault for ignoring me!”

            “I was hibernating!” Jean growled back and lifted his comforter over his head for emphasis.

            “I’m thinking we go out for FroYo, grab some pizza, and then come back here and play some Xbox.” Connie eyed the TV in the living room with a hungry look. If he wanted to play Xbox so badly, why didn’t he just buy one of his own and stay indoors to play it like a normal person?

            “It’s too fucking cold for frozen yogurt. And why do we have to go outside for pizza when you can just order it?”

            “Jean don’t be lame.” Connie patted him on the back and then pushed him in the direction of his bedroom. “You never have food in your fridge, which is a _huge_ problem in my book. And it’s never too cold for FroYo, so get dressed and I’ll wait on the couch for you. If you go back to sleep I’m stealing your Xbox and you’ll never see it again.”

Jean dropped his comforter, causing it to fall on Connie’s head and stormed into his room. Jean had lost that one, but it wasn’t like he had put up much of a fight. Sleeping for four days took a surprising amount of energy out of him and it still felt like Jean was lingering on the edge of sleep. Details weren’t really registering in his head, he just pulled on the first pair of pants he could find on the floor and tossed on a T-shirt that didn’t smell _too_ bad. He didn’t bother brushing his hair; if looking like a bum was the last form of fighting spirit he had left, he might as well use it.

Jean emerged from his room to see Connie draped over his couch. Connie lifted a tan leg at him and raised an eyebrow. “I’m diggin’ the hair Jean.”

            “Why are you wearing shorts?” Jean stared at the boy in front of him. Why did he feel even more exhausted around Connie than he did when he woke up? Why did Connie wear shorts in thirty-freakin’ degree weather? Why didn’t Connie ever wear pants? Just…why?

            “You know Jean, maybe if you show some skin you’d lose that pasty color.” Connie’s mouth stretched into a grin and he swung his legs off the couch to stand up. He looked Jean up and down before he shook his head and pointed at Jean’s face. “Then again I’m pretty sure the sun would just reflect off of you, you’re so white.”

            “Get out of my house.” Jean growled back. Connie grabbed Jean’s jacket off the coat rack and tossed it at him and proceeded to zip up his own jacket.

            “I’m about to. So this new place opened up a block over and I’m super psyched to go. You should be honored; I haven’t even taken anyone else yet!”

            “Shouldn’t you go with…gee I dunno, Sasha?” Jean snapped back as he slid his arms into the sleeves. He didn’t notice Connie’s expression change, but he heard the tone in his voice darken.

            “Sasha…” Connie turned to open the door and paused with his hand on the doorknob. His back tensed, but just as quickly relaxed as he threw open the door and gave Jean a playful smile. “Nah, never mind. Get your ass in gear Jean!”

Jean stared after him for a few seconds. He could lock the door now and go back to sleep, after barricading the door first of course. As pleasant as that sounded to him, Jean knew he didn’t have choice. Connie had good intentions, or so he thought, so he might as well get some sun on his apparently “pasty complexion”. Considerate Connie gave Jean another thing about himself to be proud of. _Not_.

After locking the door behind him, Jean took the stairs as slowly as possible to piss Connie off, who waited at the bottom of the staircase nearly bouncing off the walls. His energy failed to pass onto Jean as they stepped outside and made their way down the street. While Jean huddled into his jacket, Connie unzipped his and danced down the street, earning quite a few amused looks and smiles from nearby pedestrians.

            “Oh cheer up Jean! I bet once you get some frozen heaven in you, you’ll be dancing too!”

Jean pictured himself pushing Connie into oncoming traffic and smirked. Whatever it took him to get through this day, he’d do it.

Apparently a frozen yogurt place had actually opened up on Karanesse Street, only a block over from Jean’s apartment. It was pretty large and situated on the not-so busy street where Headquarters was located. How unobservant had he been these past couple of months? He’d walked past it dozens of times to go to his favorite café and going on his way home. The place didn’t really have anything to attract Jean’s attention, if that gave him any credit, well at least, not on the outside. Once they stepped inside, bright colors lit up the place and the smell of fruit occupied the small shop. Connie let out a squeal and ran up to the counter to stare at the menu, nearly foaming at the mouth. Jean watched Connie scan the options before he ran over to the corner to grab the largest cup possible. It was a self-serve kind of place, which was a bad idea for Connie considering he didn’t have a limit. Connie had to think before he grabbed a second cup and proceeded to pour every flavor they had into each one.

Jean shuddered and picked up a more decent sized cup for his own yogurt. They had the regular flavors like plain, vanilla, and chocolate, but they also had some unusual ones. Connie was currently swirling kiwi with cinnamon flavored frozen yogurt, to Jean’s horror. Besides kiwi and cinnamon, Jean eyed the caramel and cheesecake flavors with a mild consideration…until Connie added it to his massive heap of chocolate and fruit slop. In the end Jean settled on the safe decision of swirling original and chocolate yogurt into his cup, which only came out to five dollars while Connie racked up an impressive seventeen dollars on both of his.

Connie and Jean took a seat by the windows in the corner with their cups. Jean curled up on the bench against the wall and watched Connie stuff his face. He made it halfway through his first cup before he spoke.

            “So whatcha been up to, besides sleeping that is?”

Jean took a spoonful of his frozen yogurt, which was already starting to melt, and forced it into his mouth. It was the first time he was having frozen yogurt and Jean couldn’t really tell what made it so different from ice cream.

            “I’ve been around town, I guess. Mostly at home, trying to sleep and not be disturbed.” Jean’s eyes paused on a couple sitting only a few tables away from them. They were both laughing at something when the boy suddenly leaned forward and touched a finger to the girl’s nose and it came away with a smear of yogurt. She widened her eyes when he popped his finger into his mouth and smiled back at her.

           “Something had to have happened Jean, come on!” Connie polished off his first cup and started on his other. Jean was pretty surprised that Connie didn’t add any toppings, but then again, there was no room for toppings in the first place.

            “I was almost hit by a car, does that count?” Jean stirred his melting yogurt and turned his attention outside the window. He heard Connie grunt before he felt a sharp kick in his leg.

            “Ow, what the fuck Connie?”

            “Tell me more, tell me more!”

            “There’s nothing else to say!” Jean hissed back. He lowered his voice when he noticed that they had gotten the attention of some of the other customers. “I was crossing the street and not paying attention when someone pulled me back.”

            “Did you find out who it was?” Connie had briefly forgotten about the cup in his hand and stared at Jean with excitement in his brown eyes. If there was anything more interesting than food to Connie, it had to be near-death experiences. Except it didn’t feel like a near-death experience considering _neither of them could fucking die._

            “Some guy named Marco.” Jean froze when the name slipped out. Connie noticed Jean’s expression and his face pulled into a smug grin.

            “Jean.”

            “Connie, no.”

            “Jean.” Connie sang and raised his spoon into the air. “Tell me more about this Marco.”

Jean groaned and dropped his half-full cup on the table. “Why the hell do you care, he just pulled me out of the street!” _And we met up again at the café and at the park a few nights ago, oh yeah and we’re apparently friends now!_ No, Jean couldn’t tell Connie that. He would lap it up and tease him about it later. Hell, Connie was doing that already.

            “The hero pulls you from the street, it’s destiny Jean. There’s more to this story, isn’t there?”

            “No.” Jean cursed his voice for somehow managing to tremble on that single-syllabled word. Why couldn’t he tell a decent lie for once in his life?

Connie took another few spoon-fulls before he gave Jean his full attention. “Did you get to give him your oh-so-grateful thanks? Did he pull you into his big strong arms?”

Jean glared at Connie wordlessly and folded his arms across his chest.

            “Calm down Jean, I’m messing with you, geez.” Connie set his empty cup next to his other cup and tossed down his spoon. He glanced up at Jean and gave him a small smile. “That sounds crazy man, I’m glad you weren’t…well, you know…hit?”

Jean rolled his eyes. The couple Jean had noticed a while ago stood up and walked hand-in-hand out of the building; their bubbly laughter rang through Jean’s ears like battery acid. He really wasn’t in the mood for seeing people enjoying their oh-so perfect lives right now. Nor did he have any more patience with Connie.

            “Now we’re going to pick up the pizza I ordered. Is pepperoni and sausage okay with you? If not, I can order another one.”

Jean stared at his cup, wishing he had the ability to set things on fire. “How are you still hungry?”

Connie shrugged before he patted his stomach. “I always have room for pizza Jean.” He stacked up the empty cups and Jean’s half-empty one, which he frowned at. Jean expected him to try to eat the melted mess at the bottom, but he didn’t.

Jean stood up and stretched while Connie walked to the trash can and dumped their stuff. Even though he barely ate any, the yogurt made Jean cold before he even stepped outside. The pizza parlor was only down the small side street past Headquarters that led to the main street, which was luckily less than a block away.

 To Jean’s relief, the place was freakishly warm inside. After only a few minutes of standing in the doorway, Jean had to unzip his jacket as sweat gathered on the back of his neck. Connie had disappeared around the corner to chat with the cashier, who he apparently knew considering the way he had the poor guy in a headlock when Jean peeked inside. It was pretty empty, but it was a cozy place; not too big and not too small for a quiet dinner. Jean only ordered from them on the phone, he’d never set foot in the place before, nor did he plan on doing it again.

Connie returned ten minutes later with a huge box and an even larger smile on his face.

            “Guess who got free pizza!”

Of course he did. He probably choked it out of the cashier.

Jean opened the door for Connie, who danced onto the sidewalk and whistled as they made their way back down Karanesse Street towards Jean’s apartment. They were almost to Utopia Street when Connie stopped Jean in front of the Jewel.

            “Dude, give me three minutes.” He handed the pizza box to Jean and gave him a pleading look. “I’ll be right back!”

Jean didn’t bother calling after him. He leaned against the black fence behind him and blew out a breath. At least the pizza box was keeping his hands warm while he waited. He ended up watching the passing cars to entertain himself since he couldn’t reach for his phone; the pizza box demanded both hands and the pizza inside probably demanded a gut of steel to handle it. Jean knew Connie would be able to plow through more than half of it by himself, so there wasn’t going to be an issue about leftovers when they got back.

It took a little more than three minutes for Connie to return. The glint from the sun reflecting off the cars had given Jean a headache, so he had spent the last minute or so staring at the logo on the pizza box. Connie had two bags, one in each hand, when he returned with a sheepish look on his face.

            “Okay, that was the last stop, I promise.”

Jean raised an eyebrow and straightened his back with a satisfying pop. “Was it worth it?”

Connie’s grin spread dangerously wide.       

“You bet it was.”

 

Jean collapsed on the couch as soon as they got back home. Connie set the pizza box on the coffee table and began to empty the contents of his bags. Jean tilted his head to see what he had waited outside in the cold for. Connie carefully set a tall bottle of vodka on the table and a twelve pack of beer.

            “You know there are only two of us, right?” Jean frowned. If Connie was planning on inviting anyone else, he was escaping out the window.

            “Calm down Jean.” Connie chuckled and pulled out paper plates and red cups. Wow, did he think that Jean lacked dishes too? Whatever, it saved him the effort of washing them. Jean shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it behind him onto the floor. The sun was starting to set and painted Jean’s living room a warm orange glow as Connie poured a pretty unhealthy amount of vodka into Jean’s cup followed by orange juice.

            “Screwdrivers?” Jean took the cup from him and shook his head. “How old are you, sixteen?”

Connie filled his own cup and held it above his head to smack against Jean’s.

            “Cheers buddy.” Connie tipped his head back and gulped down the entire thing while Jean only took a sip.

            “Whoa take it easy.” Connie was already pouring his second cup, a familiar fire burning in his eyes. It was normally the look Connie got when he was dead-set on getting wasted; it was kind of terrifying, actually. Not only was a drunk Connie unruly, but he was _insanely_ loud and even more obnoxious than usual, which made him miserable to be around. Here he was getting ready to get trashed in Jean’s presence; there was no way in hell Jean was staying sober through this, not tonight.

Jean turned on the TV and stacked a couple of slices of pizza onto his plate, which he balanced on his thighs as he navigated to the Xbox home screen.

            “Anything in particular you want to play?” Jean asked Connie, who was busy stuffing his face with pizza. He nodded vigorously before he jumped up and rummaged through the pockets of his jacket that hung on the coatrack. Connie held up a game case and tossed it towards Jean, which he barely caught with his left hand as he steadied his plate with his right. Jean flipped it over to see the cover.

            “ _Need for Speed_ Connie, really?”

            “Hey man, that’s a quality series! I need you to help me unlock some tracks, come on!” Connie returned to his seat on the floor and leaned against the couch with a slice of pizza clenched between his teeth. Jean rolled his eyes and handed Connie the controller; it was a one player game so hopefully Connie’s hands would be occupied with the controller rather than drinking.

Connie’d never failed to prove Jean wrong.

An hour into the game and many, many failed attempts at the same course later, Connie managed to get through five beers and half the bottle of vodka alone. Jean struggled to keep up because he’d be damned if he stayed through this hangout sober. Connie’s driving abilities went from skillful drifts and swift dodging of police cars to painful head-on collisions and wall hugging for the entirety of the race. Despite Jean’s warnings, he still failed to avoid incoming traffic and totaled the car before he was even halfway through with the race.

            “Dammit this game is _so_ hard.” Connie threw down the remote and took another bite of cold pizza. He tilted his head back against the cushions to look up at Jean with a wired look. “You wanna try, _Jean_?”

Jean laughed at the way Connie slurred on his name and fell back against the cushions of the couch.

            “No way, you’re better at it than me.” If cruising into every car on the street and missing nearly every turn counted as good in the first place. It was probably similar to Connie’s current driving skill with an actual car, which is why he failed the driving test so many times. You’d think he’d figure it out after fifty plus years…

Connie poured Jean another drink and handed it to him before he opened another beer for himself.

            “Jean, can I…can I ask you something?” Connie stared down into his beer can and his voice came out so quiet Jean had to lean forward to hear it. Or at least he tried to lean forward; he ended up slumping sideways on the couch. The attempt made him giggle and a small smile tugged at Connie’s lip, indicating that he wasn’t really serious about what he was going to say.

            “Go ‘head.”

            “When was the last time you like…caused a disaster?” Connie kept his eyes on his beer, which he shook in his hand before he took a few gulps of it.

            “Ah…” Jean wrapped both of his hands around the red cup and tilted his head up towards the ceiling. The usual spots up there looked almost like they were moving. “Remember the other night when the power went out?” Jean said his words slowly so Connie would understand (and so Jean wouldn’t slur his own words).

            “Yeah...?” Connie prepared to take another sip before he jumped a little and whipped around to look at Jean. “Wait that was _you_? _You_ did that?”

Jean smiled and took a sip of his drink. The burning sensation was now a welcome feeling in the back of his throat and sent warmth flooding through his system. It made him feel lighter; things were more fun like this.

            “Yeah I sat in the park on…” Jean had to pause to gather his thoughts before they scattered away. “On Utopia Street…you wouldn’t believe who I saw there.” Boy, would Connie get a kick out of this.

            “Could it be…” Connie tapped his head and then tried to balance the beer can on it. “This Marco guy?”

Jean snorted and gave Connie a playful kick. “Good job Connie, your brain still works.” That’s what Jean tried to say, but it came out as a jumbled mess. Jean could only frown at his failed attempt and bring his cup back to his lips. Connie broke out into a loud guffaw and tossed his empty beer can aside and reached for another.

            “Sounds like you’re worse than me…” The sound of another beer can opening. “Tell me about Marco.”

            “Well, he’s really fuckin’ nice. Like _tooooooo_ nice.” Jean stirred the orange liquid in his cup with his finger before he sucked it off. “He’s always sayin’ nice shit to me.”

            “He’s a…one of those uh…optometrists?”

            “Optimist?”

            “Yeah! That’s…what I meant.” Connie giggled and let out a breath. “Are you guys buds or what?”

            “I dunno, he asked me…to be friends, and I said yeah, so I guess?” Jean pulled his eyebrows together and moved to pour himself some more vodka. Why was he so against telling Connie this before? Connie was a cool guy, the more Jean told him, the better he was beginning to feel. Or maybe it was just the alcohol talking?

           “Aw you got yourself a new human friend.” Connie brought up his knees and set his beer can between them. Jean just hoped it wouldn’t spill on the floor.

            “Yeah, he’s cool. He wants to be a doctor, I think.” Jean struggled to pour his next cup without spilling it all over the table. “Which is just like him.”

            “You gotta…introduce us, you can’t just hide him.”

            “Yeah I know.”

            “Jean?”

            “What?” Jean pushed back another shot and grimaced. He glanced over to see Connie turning his beer can over and over in his hands.

            “I don’t know what to do…about Sasha.” Connie’s voice sounded small and miserable. The previous humor he’d had in his eyes was gone.

            “You two fighting?”

Connie shook his head. “’s not like that…I just…really like her Jean.”

Jean sat his cup down and frowned at the empty bottle in front of him. No fucking duh he liked Sasha. That much Jean could gather over the last hundred years he’d spent with the two. Everyone knew that Connie and Sasha were a thing.

            “What’s stopping you? You guys….clearly like each other.” Jean snatched a beer out of the box and popped it open with a satisfying hiss. Jean knew it was a bad idea, but at this point his body was simply moving on its own.

            “You think she likes me?” Connie looked at Jean with wide eyes and shifted his weight to turn and look him in the face.

            “You’re a fuckin’ idiot Connie.”

            “Shut up…I’m really…” Connie made a face before he belched louder than Jean had ever heard, “Serious.”

Jean couldn’t help but laugh at that; he ended up laughing so hard he had to set down his beer to avoid spilling it and clutched his stomach. Connie only scowled at him before he took a tentative sip out of his.

            “I’m scared that things will change if I tell her. I’m not…cool like you Jean.”

Jean’s laughter cut off abruptly. He narrowed his eyes and gave Connie an incredulous look. “What did you just call me?”

            “Cool…Jean, you’re cool.”

            “I think we’ve overdone it.” Jean reached to take Connie’s beer, but Connie still managed to move at lightning speed despite being drunk. He tightly gripped Jean’s arm instead, enough to turn his skin a translucent white underneath the pressure.

            “I told you that I’m serious Jean, stop fucking around.” Connie tightened his grip and stared Jean dead in the eyes; his face stone cold. “I think you’re cool. You’re the god of freakin’ calamity…that’s…cool. What am I? The god of what? Humor? I’m the fucking god of Levity Jean, give me a break.” Connie released Jean’s arm and dropped his gaze.

            “Connie…” _Come on Jean, say something meaningful, say something to cheer him up_. Who was he kidding, he couldn’t even say that kind of thing when he was sober, how the hell could he tell Connie what he wanted to hear when he was drunk? “Humor is cool too.”

            “No it’s not! You have this crazy ability Jean, but…” Connie paused and lowered his voice. “You don’t use it anymore Jean, you used to be really…”

            “Cool?” Jean squeezed the beer can in his hand until it was nearly crushed and forced some of the liquid to the surface. Jean didn’t like the direction this conversation was going, drunk or not, he knew his boundaries. Connie was scratching at the door Jean was trying to avoid opening. He could laugh all night and drink to his heart’s content but it never changed anything about him or the things that he’d done.

_I used to be a lot of things._

            “…Yeah. I never had any of that. I just make people laugh, like I get that’s cool, but…I’m not…strong.”

            “What does that have to do with this?” A cold breeze came through the open window and ruffled Jean’s hair. It carried in the cool and metallic scent of the city, which was enough to clear some of Jean’s head, but it also raised goosebumps on his arms and made him shiver.

            “I can’t protect Sasha. If I’m not strong, how can I?”

            “It didn’t stop you before.” Jean reached again for Connie’s beer and this time Connie let him take it. He avoided Jean’s gaze and traced patterns on the hardwood floor.

            “I guess you’re right…Sasha’s strong…she can take care of herself.”

            “That’s not what I meant Connie.” Jean squeezed his eyes shut and tried to focus on the breeze behind him. “You’ve trained just like…well, everyone else. You’ve lived this long, you’re strong.”

            “Am I strong enough?” Connie whispered; his voice so fragile Jean was surprised it hadn’t broken yet. He knew Connie was on the verge of tears, he was entering the sad-drunk phase, and Jean did not want to see that happen.

            “Doesn’t matter. You will be when the time comes.” Jean was surprised how the words just fell out of his mouth. _Good job Jean, why can’t you do this when you’re sober?_

Connie smiled, it was faint, but it was there. Jean had said the words that Connie needed to hear and that alone made him feel like a better person. That was probably the main reason why Connie had come in the first place, to drink his sorrows away and get everything off his chest. Jean wasn’t complaining, it was a pretty good method, and it allowed Jean to open up a little more too. Although he really shouldn’t make it a habit or else all of Jean’s cards would fall onto the table for everyone to see. If he blasted through his limit and said too much, what would happen? What stability would he have left?

            “Jean?”

            “Yeah Connie?” Connie’s sudden change in tone caught Jean’s attention again. He was looking at Jean with watery eyes and held a tender expression, which was pretty strange coming from Connie.

            “Don’t push away that Marco kid…I think…he’s gonna be really special to you. And you deserve someone special, okay?” Connie crawled up onto the couch beside Jean and threw his arms around him. Jean mentally screamed as Connie tightened his hold and rocked them side to side on the couch, threatening to knock them both off.

            “Alright, alright I get it.” Jean awkwardly clapped Connie on the back, but Connie didn’t release his hold. “No more pushing away. Now you have to tell Sasha that you love her, and not with Ariana Grande.”

Connie groaned next to him and leaned back to look Jean in the eyes. “That was the only way I knew how…”

The two broke into another fit of laughter and fell back onto the couch. The TV was still on, but the Xbox had turned itself off during their talk, leaving the screen with a blank black glow. Connie closed his eyes and hummed under his breath.

            “Can I crash on your couch Jean?” he opened one eye and jutted out his bottom lip in an attempt to beg.

            “That’s a given Connie.” Jean picked up the trash on the floor and piled it onto the coffee table so he could clean it up later. He didn’t currently possess the coordination or the will to put the living room back in order right now. Instead, he said goodbye to Connie and trudged into his bedroom to face-plant onto his bed. He welcomed the soft fabric with every ounce of his being, until he remembered that his comforter was still on the floor in the corner of the living room; he’d stepped right over it as if it never existed. Jean tried to mentally calculate whether it was worth getting up to retrieve it and ultimately decided that no, it was not. He didn’t even bother taking off his pants or shirt, he just wrapped himself in his sheets and closed his eyes against the dizziness. As he took deep breaths, Jean could feel himself gradually sinking into the dark encompasses of sleep.

 

It didn’t last long.

He slept a good four hours before he was up and pacing his bedroom, trying to calm his hot-wired brain. No matter how long he shut his eyes, he couldn’t go back to sleep, and he was exhausted. Jean decided to grab his comforter while he was up and return it to his bed, then went into the kitchen to get a bottle of water. By now he was a master at maneuvering through his apartment in the dark (even when drunk), so getting to the fridge and silently perching himself on the kitchen counter was no hard feat at all. His buzz from earlier was gone and a small ache was left in its wake along with an extremely dry mouth and nasty taste in his mouth. After finishing the entire bottle, Jean snuck into the living room where Connie’s snoring filled the silence. Jean tip-toed past the couch, crawled out his open window, and crept onto the fire escape outside.

Jean spent a lot of time out here. It was one of the most calming places he had and he could watch the sunrise from this point. Even though the fire escape led down into a kind of sketchy alley that Jean wouldn’t doubt murders had taken place, it was still a nice spot to just think.

Jean draped his arms over the railing and watched the dark sky hint at the possibility of new light. The break of the clouds as the sun began to show its face made the city look a lot less shitty than it normally looked, and made Jean feel the same way. As Jean stood out on the fire escape, he realized that watching the sunrise reminded him of Marco’s smile. They were both bright, inviting, and made you feel good about your life at the moment, which was a pretty amazing thing. Jean wished his smile could do that to people, instead his presence just granted them the possibility of having a really bad day, or even a bad life. But if that was the way the world worked, Jean would be damned if he couldn’t have his sunrise on his fire escape without some sort of positivity.

Jean stood out there for a while after the sun rose. He watched the city wake up; people came out of the apartments and got into their cars, preparing to start a new day of their lives. Jean still couldn’t feel the onsets of sleep coming, nor did he believe that he could physically move from his spot. Goosebumps seemed to permanently rest on his arms since Jean was oh-so-smart enough to stand outside without his jacket. Teeth chattering aside, it was a good way to waste time. Even if that time was consumed by what he could remember from his conversation with Connie. He told him not to push anyone away anymore, so he knew that Jean had cut off his human contact? He never remembered telling anyone about that. It was a rule that he had made for himself and kept to himself for thirty years.

Of course, being drunk allowed everything about Marco to slip out, and naturally, Connie would probably forget everything except that. Either way, Jean planned on taking his advice. Perhaps letting _one_ human in would be fine, enough to spare him of his loneliness and maybe keep him tethered to his spot in the human world as well. He could definitely learn a thing or two from Marco, hell, he’d managed to learn a thing or two from Connie last night and they were both drunk.

The world worked in mysterious ways, didn’t it?

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys enjoyed that chapter! I actually don’t remember what we have planned for the next chapter, but I’m sure it’s something exciting! I edited all of this at an airport just now; off to the Florida Keys for some sunshine. :) If you guys are on spring break, hope you all have a great time and are able to relax a ton!   
> ^^^  
> Yikes, sorry it took so long for this chapter!! I was in Wisconsin the past two days so I couldn't edit and upload the chapter as quickly as I would have liked, but here it is! Connie is my spirit animal by the way. Um, let's see...the next chapter may or may not have some JeanMarco in it (of course it will). There's also some ReiBert. And do I smell a Cat Lady? Smells like old perfume and cat dander up in here....


	7. Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waking up hungover isn’t easy on a regular day, but unfortunately for Jean, he’s in for a load of trouble. A storm is brewing, and Jean’s about to be caught in the middle of it.

From the moment he woke up, Jean knew that it was going to be a shitty day. He could feel it in his bones, resonating through him as if he had taken a shot to the ribcage with a police Taser (he knew that feeling well). Jean had gotten a _glorious_ two hours of sleep before he was up again and pacing around his room in anguish, wondering what could possibly be bothering him this early in the morning. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact feeling, but it was similar to déjà vu; the way Jean moved back and forth past his bed as the sunlight began to stream through his dirty windows seemed to shout that he had done this before, and many, many times. The headache throbbing behind his eyes was also too familiar, but Jean believed it had nothing to do with this particular situation.

For as long as Jean had existed, his sense of déjà vu was never simply déjà vu. People who experience déjà vu feel as if they’d seen a particular scene or event before, but for Jean this feeling was similar to how he felt when he knew something bad was about to happen. This was foreboding. It was a never ending cycle of fearing what was to come and what had already happened.

As a god of misfortune, Jean could sense danger better than anyone else; he could sniff it out from miles away if he was paying close attention, but it was never exact. He couldn’t tell the future, as cool as that sounded, but he could at least know when he needed to be on guard. Today seemed to be one of those days; Jean trusted his intuition more than he trusted himself, and as far as he knew, his intuition had never been wrong.

Jean could confirm that today would be a shitty day the moment he walked into his living room (AKA the seventh circle of Hell), which was filled with a drunken stench that seemed to radiate from the couch as if it had its own energy. Judging from the strength of the odor, Jean knew it would take weeks for him to get it out of the furniture, let alone his memory.

Beer cans were strewn across the floor, a vodka bottle lay on its side a few feet from the table, and Connie was sprawled out on the sofa and snoring as loudly as anyone could ever imagine. It was surprising that the disgusting resonating sound hadn’t woken Jean up, but it certainly didn’t do wonders for his headache. And Jean had another problem to add to the accumulating list, this one a little more frustrating than others.

His living room smelled like a bar.

Worse; maybe if the bar had taken place in a barn for the night.

Jean grumbled to himself as he picked up one of the plastic bags near the couch and began to throw away the garbage they had accumulated last night. He needed Febreeze—like three cans of it thanks to Connie’s beer sweat alone (God how did Sasha put up with that?). The leftover pizza had solidified into small square blocks of concrete, so they joined the empty beer cans and cups in the trash bag. The Xbox controllers were covered in a sticky layer of pizza grease (thanks a lot Connie) and now he had a beer stain on his rug.

_Today’s off to a great start._

As Jean stuffed the bag of garbage and the pizza box in his too-small garbage can, he felt the phone in his back pocket buzz. After straightening his back with a slightly painful crack, Jean pulled out his phone to see a message from Armin telling him to come in. The message lacked details, which normally didn’t happen, and the abrupt two words lacked a punctuation mark, which was also unusual. Jean slid his phone back into his pocket with a scowl, wondering if he was actually going insane and overanalyzing every small detail that appeared out of place.

Jean tried to push away his building concern and walked back into the living room, promptly plugging his nose as he approached Connie. Jean gave him a good few shakes to wake him up.

“I swear I didn’t do it…” Connie murmured, still asleep. “Don’t take it from me…”

            “Connie wake up.” Jean shook him harder. The blanket that barely covered Connie’s legs slipped off and fell onto the floor at Jean’s feet. Jean made a mental reminder to wash it with every laundry detergent brand he could find before he used it again.

Connie mumbled something, too low for Jean to hear, and suddenly kicked at him, narrowly missing Jean’s face by less than an inch.

            “Jesus Connie!” Jean jumped back and Connie finally opened his eyes. It took him a while to take in his surroundings before he moved again.  When he did, he stretched with a groan and Jean could hear the click of his joints as he forced himself into a sitting position.

            “Good morning.” Connie smacked his lips and made a disgusted face. “Oh god what died in my mouth?”

_Well it’s probably not as bad as you smell._

“Armin wants us in.” Jean picked up the blanket with a disgusted look and tossed it over the side of the couch. “If you can shower in five minutes I won’t leave you behind.”

            “Can do!” Connie jumped up only to stumble dangerously close to Jean’s flat screen TV. As a reflex, Jean threw himself in front of the TV as a block and pushed Connie in the direction he was supposed to be going.

            “Sorry, still drunk I guess.” He laughed airily and slowly made his way down the hallway. Once the bathroom door shut and the shower started running, Jean let out a long sigh and went back into his bedroom. He took advantage of this time to change into clothes that he hadn’t worn for over twenty hours or spilled anything on. He could only hope he didn’t smell as badly as Connie did. Probably not. Hopefully not.

Jean’s hair wasn’t on board for the _decent for society_ look today and stood up in ways only Jean could comprehend possible. He didn’t give it much of his time, only running his fingers through the mess to smooth it down to a bearable degree before letting out another well-deserved sigh.

 He slipped his wallet and phone into the pocket of a clean pair of black jeans as Connie came out of the bathroom. He sported Jean’s favorite towel around his waist and paused at the doorway to Jean’s room, rubbing his eyes. Jean frowned at Connie’s towel choice; it looked like tonight was definitely going to be laundry night.

            “Yo Jean can I borrow some clothes?”

Jean rolled his eyes and rummaged around his dresser for a pair of jeans that could possibly come close to Connie’s size and one of the first T-shirts he could find. Connie caught them (surprisingly) when Jean tossed the bundle at his face.

            “Thanks!” he disappeared back down the hallway and shut the bathroom door with a loud bang.

After a few seconds of staring at the floor (he had completely zoned out), Jean moved into the living room to grab his coat. His sleep deprivation was really starting to hit him. Going from sleeping two or three days straight to a measly two hours…well, it didn’t do wonders for him.

 

Jean had to drag Connie, and the cloud of misery that came with him, to Headquarters in order for them to get there in a reasonable amount of time. If it were up to Connie, he’d crawl on his hands and knees at a snail’s pace, but Jean couldn’t have him doing that across the busy streets. Talk about a disaster.

It wasn’t just Connie’s exhaustion wearing on him, nor his own, but the thick air that filled Trost; the sky was a sad shade of gray without a sign of the sun. The humidity made his clothes stick to his torso as if they were soaking wet, signaling the oncoming rain.

Once he pushed open the glass doors to Headquarters, Jean felt like he had walked into the wrong building. The lobby was empty, the TVs were off, and Jean noticed as they walked through the room that it was completely silent. Jean threw Connie a worried glance, but Connie was far from being observant; he ground his palms into his eyes and let out a loud whine as they made their way to the stairs.

The lounge was just as silent as the lobby. The TV was also off, leaving the room surprisingly dull and dreary, no source of light came from the windows thanks to the clouds, and no one had bothered to turn on the lights. Only Bert and Reiner sat at one of the tables; Reiner had his head buried in his arms, hunched over the table, with Bert rubbing his back in a soothing motion. Bert gave Jean and Connie a grim look before he turned all of his attention back to the motion of his hand as if he were working magic. Connie dropped into a seat beside them with a low groan and tilted his head back towards the ceiling. Believe it or not, he fell asleep like that.

A few moments later Eren came around the corner with a somewhat shaken look on his face. His tan face looked pasty in the dim lighting; his usually energetic eyes looked panicked, as if he had witnessed a crime.  They wandered from Connie to Reiner to Bert, and finally, to Jean. He didn’t offer Jean any snide remark or dirty look when he came over to join them at the table. He kept his mouth in a tight line and ran a thumb over his knuckles with enough force to crack them.

Something was seriously wrong here. Jean wondered if it was the world in a shitty mood, inflicting its damage on the unfortunate souls that inhabited it.

            “Is anyone going to tell me what’s going on?” Jean finally asked. He spoke at his usual volume, but the silence made everyone flinch as if he’d shouted. Reiner let out a low groan and Bert’s massaging intensified.

Eren started to wring his hands and took a deep breath. “Things are pretty stressful upstairs.”

Jean narrowed his eyes and waited for an elaboration, but it never came.

“What do you mean ‘things are stressful’?”

“Erwin’s been put directly in charge of the whole case with the murders and stuff…” Eren trailed off and looked over his shoulder as if Erwin would show up by simply saying his name. “I heard the others didn’t want to handle it since they didn’t think that it was a big deal…”

            “Not a big deal? Since when has gods dropping out of rank and killing humans not a big deal?”

            “It’s happened before.” Reiner muttered, his voice muffled by his arm. “We kill humans all the time.”

Jean bit his lower lip, but didn’t drop his gaze. He knew that; he’d done it countless times. “That’s not what I meant.”

            “What the issue is,” Reiner tilted his head to look Jean in the eye, “is the fact that it’s gods killing humans, which makes it a case for judgement. Gods don’t kill humans for Punishment anymore and there aren’t any more wars for us to fight in. At this point, I don’t think we’re allowed to touch them anymore, so the gods are turning on each other or going on killing sprees for fun. Now it’s a matter of deciding whether the killings are for sport or for picking a fight with the higher ranked gods‒if it’s the latter the group is sent to the jury. And who’s better at judgement than Erwin?”

            “So he’s assigning Punishment.” Bert said quietly, as if to himself, and his hand stilled on Reiner’s back.

Jean leaned back in his seat and let out a gust of breath. He had no doubt that his suspicion was correct, especially when Armin had the same idea, but things would have been a hundred times easier if it were simply a human criminal and not another god. A human could be arrested easily, or in the more extreme cases, killed. However gods needed to be evaluated, judged, and ultimately, punished.

 Punishment was a difficult task that Jean didn’t even understand; the person charged had to undergo a sort of punishment and then what, a trial? Or maybe it was the other way around? He knew it involved standing in front of the higher gods waiting to see whether they would strike you down or offer a chance at redemption. Even so, that put a lot of pressure on Erwin; he may be used to being responsible for the lives of others, but to solve the matter himself…

It explained the atmosphere in the building: grumpy upstairs, gloomy downstairs. If Levi heard a single laugh from the second floor when he was in a bad mood (or his worse-than-usual-mood) he would give them a few good kicks to the face until they shut up. Eren had been the unfortunate one to learn that lesson, but witnessing it was almost as painful (but Jean had been grinning the entire time).

            “But Erwin’s not going to have it easy because it’s not a single person...” Reiner sat up and ran his hand through his short blonde hair. His tone was clipped and tired and Jean could see the dark rings under his usually bright brown eyes. “The only way to punish an entire group is mass slaughter.”

“Would that make us any better?” Bert moved his hand from Reiner’s back to scratch his chin. Reiner shook his head at Bert’s question and stared at the table as if it were the most interesting thing in the world and his eyes gradually narrowed until he finally shut them again with a sigh.

Killing a single human no longer constituted as a “bad” crime, it was the act of killing a large quantity. This case only applied to humans; for a god to kill another god, it was labelled as the worst crime a god could commit. It was an act of betrayal that would land any god straight into Punishment, or worse, their own death. Jean had never killed another god‒he had never been pushed into the position, but to eliminate an entire group of gods…the aftermath of such an act was unimaginable.

Jean sat in silence with the others for a good ten minutes before Reiner stood up and stretched.

“Well this is depressing, anyone want to go out for lunch?” His voice lacked his normal energy and sounded surprisingly quiet, yet it still managed to catch Jean off guard. His attitude made Jean a little uneasy, but Jean figured it could be similar to what he was feeling. As the god of misfortune can sense misfortune, the god of war can sense war. Was war their future?

“Armin called me here like there was an emergency.” Jean leaned his head on his hand and pointed at Connie with the other. “I had to drag that thing here with me because of that.”

            “There was _supposed_ to be a meeting, but Erwin’s too busy to hold it.” Reiner blinked at Connie as if he didn’t remember him being there.  “We can waste some time outside until they finish their work. I don’t really like the vibes I’m getting here…”

Bert nodded and stood up. He was careful not to rake the chair across the floor and potentially wake Connie up (not a concern, Connie could sleep through a fucking earthquake‒has before actually). Bert joined Reiner’s side by the staircase where they paused for Jean’s answer.

“I’ll go.” Like hell he’d want to stay in this gloomy building. He could stare at the clock for only so long without going insane.

They turned their attention to Eren, who remained where he sat, still wringing his hands with a miserable look on his face.

            “You coming?” Jean couldn’t believe that he was even asking. _And the world explodes when Jean invites Eren out for lunch…_

Eren looked up and gave them a pained smile. “Geez, things must be bad when you want me to come somewhere with you…but thanks. I think I’m gonna stay here in case, you know…something comes up.” He turned to look at Connie, now snoring at an unnatural angle in his chair. “He might need me to re-break his neck when he wakes up.”

Reiner nodded before he led the way down the stairs, rubbing absent-mindedly at his own neck with a grimace. Jean dragged behind Reiner and Bert as they made their way out the building, expecting to be the usual third-wheel, but today it didn’t feel like that. Reiner walked with his hands in his pockets while Bert stayed silent at his side. Jean didn’t know what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect silence. Reiner didn’t utter any dirty jokes or stories to try and make Bert laugh. The two walked ahead of Jean, eyes trained forward and their backs stiff, the distance between them surprisingly…far.

Jean was nearly ready to pull out his hair once they reached a small diner on one of the main streets. It was an old restaurant with peeling paint that Jean didn’t actually identify as a diner until after they stepped inside. Reiner and his damn obsession with diners, let alone with anything particularly retro in the slightest. He wished his memory of Reiner in the ‘70s would fly far away rather than rattling on the surface as if it were just yesterday. Some people should not wear legwarmers…or try to rock the afro; thank god those days were over.

The restaurant seemed to be marinating in its own greasy smell; it wasn’t necessarily gross or annoying, but Jean found it a little concerning as they stepped towards the counter.

“Hey Harry.” Reiner called to the old man behind the cash register. He squinted to see who called his name and when he recognized who it was, his face lit up as he darted around the counter to pat Reiner’s massive biceps.

            “Reiner my boy! Welcome, welcome! How are you?” The old man had to crane his neck pretty far back to look up into Reiner’s eyes, considering he was so short. He barely came up to Reiner’s pecs and the height difference reminded Jean of how it was with Erwin and Levi though of course the height difference wasn’t this bad.

“I’m doing okay…got any room for us?”

            “Of course!” Harry waved his hand, gesturing for them to follow him. As he wound his way around an occupied table, he eventually led them to an empty booth in the back of the restaurant. Jean took in the retro decorations; obnoxious red and white stripes covered nearly everything and some framed paintings hung on the wall behind them along with a picture of a woman biting into a burger advertising the “Great Belly Buster”.

Harry pointed at Bert and gave him a wide, toothless grin. “Don’t think that I forgot about you Bert!”

Bert smiled uncomfortably and his face screamed _save me_ when Harry started patting his arms. Once the old man finished, Bert quickly took his seat next to Reiner in the booth with a light sheen of sweat already covering his face.

“And you boy!” Oh geez. Now the old man was looking at Jean. “What’s your name?” Jean tried his best not to lean away from the old guy when he moved closer. He smelled like he had bathed in a bathtub of grease and onions; Jean figured he was most likely making the same face as Bert’s.

            “It’s Jean.” He said quickly so the smell wouldn’t go through his mouth; he was holding his breath as it was.

            “Jean! Alright my-boy, next time you come I will remember you! Any friend of Reiner’s is a friend of mine!” he gave Jean the same pat-down treatment with his tiny (probably greasy) hands and hurried back to his place behind the counter. Jean slowly sat down and felt the tight, red seat covering squeak under his weight as he settled himself on the outer portion of the seat. Jean had made a habit of avoiding corner seats, or even seats that weren’t easily accessible for that matter. He didn’t like the idea of being trapped, or at least prohibited from jumping up and fleeing at the last moment. Jean had lost count of how many times it had happened to him in the past.

A few moments later a waitress breezed by to set down their menus. She smiled brightly at them before she slipped away just as quickly to serve another table. Reiner didn’t seem to notice her brief appearance, as he was too busy picking at a napkin on the table. He barely responded when Bert slid the menu in front of his face; he simply blinked at it before continuing to make a mess on the wooden table.

“I’m guessing you come here often Reiner?” At this point, Jean felt desperate for a conversation starter—anything to break the tense atmosphere that hovered over them as they held their menus. Jean tried to look for the least heart-attack worthy meal available; he could at least try to pick the healthiest of his fast-food options, but then again, the two pound Belly Buster challenge sounded like something Jean didn’t want to pass up.

Reiner made an affirmative noise in the back of his throat. “I’ve known that man since he was in his twenties.” He dropped his head into one of his hands while the other made its way underneath the table. Bert suddenly jumped with a squeak and gave Reiner a flustered look, and Reiner, clearly satisfied, brought his hand back up to the table to pick up another napkin.

Jean didn’t know what was worse; the fact that he was so used to Reiner’s public harassment or the fact that Jean was happy about seeing it. Reiner still had some humor left, and that alone was a miracle and gave Jean a glimpse of hope that the world probably wasn’t ending yet.

Reiner’s words finally reached Jean’s brain as he skimmed through the different appetizers. He’d known him that long? Jean could see the fondness in Reiner’s eyes when he looked down at the old man; a unique bond that Jean never had nor could truly understand. It was never the best idea to hang around humans for that long with them knowing that they didn’t age, unless…

“Did you have his memories altered?” Jean closed his menu, bracing himself for the bad health decision he was about to make today.

Reiner brought his eyebrows together and sighed.

            “More or less. He just thinks that I’ve grown up coming here.” He drummed his fingers on the table and gave Bert a small smile. “I feel a little bad, but the guy is awesome…I can’t just stop coming here.”

Jean nodded. He wondered what would happen to Reiner when that old man died. Would he cry? Possibly. Hell, with the relationship they had, Reiner would be heartbroken; Jean didn’t want to dwell too much on it.

Bert had his face fixed into a frown as he stared down at his menu. Jean could tell from the tension in his arms that he had his hands balled tightly in his lap. The thought most likely haunted Bert every night; the moment when he would have to witness Reiner’s heart break into another piece, since hearts never broke in clean or equal fragments, but chipped away and crumbled until there was nothing left. He might feel like he was walking on thin ice with Reiner, he was a lot to handle. The big guy had a big heart…no, his heart was _huge_ , swollen from both love and hate, and he carried it proudly, but it was still damaged. Even if his mood could fly south in seconds or paint the world in happy colors the next; Reiner was still the same kind of guy. He loved more than he could hate, and as everyone was starting to realize, that was the reason he would have to endure so much suffering.

The blonde waitress appeared, almost out of thin air, at the edge of the table with a notepad poised in her hand.

            “What can I get for you boys? Did you decide on any drinks yet?”

Her voice cut through the thick atmosphere like a knife. Jean peeled his eyes from Bert and Reiner to look up at her in mild irritation. It wasn’t normal for people to just _teleport_ wherever they pleased. She did spare him from the awkward silence before it started to get out of hand though.

            “No, I’ll just have water…” Jean trailed off when he noticed the intent gaze the waitress focused on him. Big round blue eyes studied him, but in a friendly way, as if she were simply trying to figure out who, or what, he was. She broke into another sunny smile and nodded, dragging her eyes away from Jean and to Bert.

            “Water for us too.” Reiner spoke for the two of them without looking up from his dismantled napkins. Bert nodded in affirmation.

            “Understood! Have you decided what ya wanna order?”

“Two pounder.” Jean and Reiner spoke in unison. Jean turned to give Reiner a questioning look and Reiner raised an eyebrow, finally pulling his attention away from the table. The waitress giggled at their stare-down and scribbled down Bert’s order, after he mumbled quietly to her.

“Are you challenging me Jean?” Reiner barked, the ghost of a smile playing at his lips.

Jean pushed his menu aside and leaned forward in his seat. “Maybe I am.”

“You won’t win. First one to finish wins.” Reiner crossed his arms across his massive chest and finally smiled one of his authentic smiles. Reiner could never back out of a challenge, especially with food, and hopefully this would get him back on his feet. Jean got the impression that the challenge sounded a little too easy; considering how hungry he was, two pounds of meat sounded like an appetizer. The rough part would be beating Reiner, the man could inhale an entire cow in less than an hour (another memory Jean wished he could erase).

Jean thought that the challenge was a piece of cake, but once the burgers were delivered to them, things changed. Jean’s stomach did a nervous flip when he picked it up and a steady trickle of grease leaked out of the paper wrapping and onto the red tray it came on. He knew something that heavy should definitely _not_ be going into him, and if it did, it would come with heavy consequence.

_At least we can’t have heart attacks_. Jean bit into his burger and locked eyes with Reiner: signaling the beginning of their challenge.

Getting through the first half of the burger was easy. Jean put it down with a few gulps of water before he made his way through the last half, keeping an eye on Reiner as he ate. Bert watched them with worried eyes as he picked at his cheese fries. Reiner didn’t seem fazed by the burger at all, and if anything, he appeared to be taking his time. He dabbed lightly at the corners of his mouth with the napkin and grinned teasingly at Jean before he shoved the last piece of the burger into his mouth. Jean felt his jaw drop in horror as Reiner chewed his mouthful and washed it down with the rest of his water.

            “That shouldn’t be possible.” Jean groaned and tossed the remainder of his burger back onto the tray. Just the sight of fast food was enough to make him nauseous; it wasn’t helping that Reiner started _licking his fucking fingers_ after the ordeal.

            “I don’t know what you were expecting.” Reiner shrugged, the smile returning to his face. He looked pretty fucking proud. Bert stared down at Reiner’s tray in a mixture of fear and concern. Reiner caught him staring and furrowed his brows. “What’s wrong babe?”

            “I swear if you wake me up with diarrhea again Reiner…” Bert’s voice turned dangerously acidic as he lowered it and Reiner leaned back, nervously scratching his neck.

            “I promise it won’t be like last time!”

            “That’s what you said the last time.”

            “I promise!”

            “Please stop showing off.” Bert huffed and went back to his fries, picking at them a little angrily.

            “Sorry.” Reiner mumbled. He gave Jean a subdued smirk and rolled his eyes.

Jean felt the corner of his mouth lift into a tiny smile. Well, his initial plan had worked to a degree; Reiner looked a lot happier than he did when they walked in, however Bert’s mood seemed to have gone down in the process.

Destroying the Belly Buster just like that was no easy feat either, it was almost impossible for Jean to not be impressed. Its enormous size didn’t seem to make it possible to scarf it down like Reiner had. No doubt someone had died trying to eat the thing; countless ignorant souls like Jean had no doubt tried and given up halfway through, vowing to never touch fast food again.

Jean picked up a handful of napkins and started working on the grease that had accumulated on his fingers. The day was finally starting to feel a little less shitty than it did earlier, but Jean knew his happiness would be short lived when the door to the restaurant dinged open again.

A cold chill came in when the door cracked open. It traveled through the room quickly and raised goosebumps on Jean’s arm, causing him to shiver. It was a tremor, the same feeling Jean had been experiencing that morning, except tripled in intensity. Every part of his body screamed _danger!_

Three men stepped into the restaurant wearing all black and ski masks to hide their faces. The tallest man stepped forward brandishing a pistol and an empty bag. At the sight of the gun, a chorus of screams erupted from the people at the front of the restaurant, but they were quickly silenced by one of the men stepping towards them with a small knife.

Of all the places to be robbed, it had to be the one Jean was in. He could almost laugh at how comical his life had become. _There’s no such thing as coincidences._

“Everyone line up! If you cooperate, we won’t kill you!” his friends snickered behind him as if it were a funny joke. Hesitant, people slowly got up from their seats and began to line up along the counter in the front of the restaurant. Jean watched their waitress join Harry’s side with wide eyes and a trembling lip. He said something to her and gave a grim smile; they kept their hands up in surrender.

The air around them began to thicken with tension. Jean wondered if it was his own frustration or Reiner’s anger he was sensing. Even so, it was poor timing considering Jean was both sleep deprived and one-hundred percent done with everything at this point, and he could guarantee that Reiner was feeling the exact same way. It wasn’t a matter of feeling threatened, but the inconvenience of playing victim to a crime they had no business in.

            “Are you fucking kidding me?” Reiner hissed under his breath, all traces of his potential good mood long gone.

            “Reiner please.” Bert squeezed Reiner’s arm with a panicked look. “Don’t.”

Reiner measured Bert’s gaze before he let out a sigh and shook his head.

Even though they were in the back of the room, Jean was still in plain sight of the robbers from his seat, and the leader made eye contact with him as Jean finished wiping off his hands. Did humans really believe that they could be inconspicuous if they wore a ski mask? It was such a cliché robbery getup, when would they learn?

“Hey you!” The taller guy started to make his way towards them while his friends went down the line frisking the people along the counter. “Get your ass over here!”

            “Ugh.” Jean grumbled and stood up, tossing his balled up napkin on the table. Bert slowly slid out of his seat to stand and moved aside to let Reiner out. Reiner kept his arms crossed, trying to contain his inner fury, as they walked over to join the back of the line.

            “Are you saying I should just stand here and let this happen?” Reiner asked Bert under his breath as he watched the guy go around the restaurant searching for anyone hiding.

            “We shouldn’t get involved.” Bert said.

            “I dunno about you guys,” Jean watched one of the men near them with the bag of possessions they’d stolen, “but I kind of want to keep my phone. And my money.”

Reiner rolled his eyes. “Bert I’m not going to just let this happen—”

            “Hey you!” the third guy turned his head to glare at them as he rustled through the bag. “Shut the hell up!”

            “Oh…” Jean laughed airily back at him. “You shouldn’t have said that…”

            “What did you say?” The guy narrowed his eyes and made his way towards them, but stopped abruptly in his tracks.

Reiner had given up on his “remaining calm” stance and instead, launched a chair at the guy, sending him sprawling onto the floor. It attracted the attention of the leader and the other guy, who had been busy trying to wrestle a phone out of a crying middle-schooler’s hand.

            “What the fuck was that?” the guy pointed the gun at Reiner and curled his lip. “Who the hell do you think you are? You threw a fucking chair?!”

            “Want me to throw another?” Reiner already had his hand wrapped around the back of one; a dangerous sneer on his face.

Jean could hear the protesting whimpers of the customers. They were shaking their heads, warning Reiner not to risk it, reminding him of the fact that he had a loaded pistol pointed at his chest that, under normal circumstances, would kill him. Reiner, on the other hand, couldn’t care less about the gun pointed at him. He was in a completely harmless situation, as were Jean and Bert, leaving them the calmest in this situation as opposed to the vulnerable humans near them. They were the ones terrified, hoping for help to come so they could escape with their lives.

As Reiner lifted the chair off the floor, Jean heard the safety click off and a few customers covered their ears and turned away to avoid seeing what would happen next.

The guy didn’t even have time to think about pulling the trigger. Reiner hurled the chair into him with enough force that the chair broke and sent the gun skidding across the linoleum floor towards the back of the room.

It felt like time had stopped moving. Jean watched the gun spin out of sight, his eyes trained on the movement across the dirty linoleum rather than the men lying on it. The customers stood frozen in minute shock, unable to process what was happening while Reiner went on his rampage. The only movement came from him storming up to the last guy who was holding the bag up to his chest, cradling it as if it were a child. It took him a few seconds to register that he had to move in order to escape, but he only mustered a couple shaky steps backwards towards the door before Reiner reached him. With a snarl, Reiner picked the guy up by his collar and lifted him above his eye level, glaring at him menacingly until the guy dropped the bag in terror.

            “L-look I’m sorry alright? It w-wasn’t my idea or anything like that!” the words tumbled out of the guy’s mouth in a rush. “I s-swear dude please...”

Reiner kept him poised in midair, but his glower was starting to turn into an indecisive scowl as he registered the emotions flickering across the guy’s face. Jean could see it too; the guy was still human, and he was just as scared as the people in the restaurant.

Jean always wondered if crimes dehumanized the individuals committing it. Did a serial killer’s lack of empathy make him less human than a random stranger on the street? Maybe it was more a case of every-man-for-himself; these guys stole from others in order to benefit themselves. It didn’t look like they came in with the intent to kill; if they did they would have opened fire the moment they walked in. This was, in a sense, an innocent crime. They expected it to be quick and easy, to grab what they wanted and vanish without a trace. That would make today their unlucky day.

            “You’re sorry?” Reiner questioned him. His voice was steel; cold, hard, and sharp in the quiet air.

            “Yes!”

            “Why don’t you tell that to the people you stole from?” Reiner’s grip loosened on the guy, causing him to slip down.

            “Shit, shit I’m sorry guys!” he turned his head to look at them. Reiner didn’t see it as sufficient and tugged the ski mask off the guy’s head, revealing a disheveled man with blonde hair. His green eyes were wet, brimming with honest tears. “I’m really sorry, please take everything back!”

Reiner tipped his head in Bertholdt’s direction with a grunt. Bert hesitated before he left Jean’s side to pick up the sack and bring it to the front of the line. The crowd slowly melted out of its shock and began to applaud as Reiner set the guy on the floor and ordered him to stay put. Jean checked over his shoulder to see Harry talking hurriedly into the phone as the woman beside him regarded the scene in awe. Her eyes quickly met Jean’s and she gave him a breathless smile, the tension from fear slowly melting off her shoulders. Jean grinned back before turning away, shoving his hands into his pockets as he made his way towards the door.

            “Nice work.” Jean clapped Reiner on the back as he passed him, a small bubble of pride building in his chest. Reiner was really…something.

Reiner turned to look at him sheepishly, but he didn’t say anything. He just nodded back with a tight smile. Once again, Reiner’s love for others triumphed over his desire for violence, albeit at the last moment, but it definitely fueled the gratitude of the restaurant. Harry ran from his spot at the counter to pull Reiner into a hug, tears running down his face as he patted the small of Reiner’s back in quick, still panicked, movements.

Jean could feel eyes on his back as he stepped out of the restaurant.Only a few witnesses watched him leave the restaurant, others were overwhelmed with the commotion surrounding Reiner. That was all Jean needed to make his small escape. The most beneficial trait of human beings was their faulty and fragile memory. It nearly begged to be tweaked and altered‒and it was insanely easy to do when it was necessary. The eyes that had managed to linger on Jean a little longer than the others soon began to drift back towards the movement in front of them. The farther Jean walked away from the restaurant, the more his presence faded away.

Just like that Jean felt himself drop out of the story. When the police questioned the people in the restaurant, they would only remember Reiner and Bert standing tall to the situation; maybe they’d feel a little puzzled that they couldn’t exactly remember whether there was another. He erased himself from the event as if he were never there. Maybe Harry would remember him, or even the waitress, but Jean couldn’t be too sure. The only people who would know the true story would be Jean, Reiner, and Bert. Whether the memory of the event remained in the minds of the witnesses depended on the higher god’s decision; the customers could wake up tomorrow believing that nothing had happened.

Jean continued walking with no particular destination in mind. He simply moved for the sake of putting one foot in front of the other, away from the scene Reiner had caused, and away from the older part of the city that he was most acquainted with. Jean passed the park and its modern day playground, filled with kids from the school nearby. They swung on bars, hopped across gaps, and slid down slides, successfully navigating the death trap that occupied almost half of the park itself. Jean figured it must be the end of the school day, judging from the backpacks strewn in the grass and parents mingling by the benches and fence in idle chatter while they waited for their kids.

The streets began to run smoother as Jean made his way through the newer part of Trost. The sidewalks became less cracked and empty flowerbeds now ran down the length of the streets, and occasional dividers split the road with tall skinny trees that had yet to bloom. The city held the potential of being colorful and vibrant, but today it only held the dark colors of brown and gray. Even the grass lacked its particular glow. The sky still had an ugly gray color with no sign of sun in sight, only the promises of rain.

Jean wondered where he was going.

He was deeper in the city than he normally went. Usually if he wanted to get to this part of town, he’d drive. Jean spotted a tall glass building that he recognized as the new library; it stood tall and elegant at the edge of Trost University’s campus.

_How did I get here?_

Jean frowned, but his feet kept moving him forward. He crossed the street and stepped onto the cobblestone road, indicating the beginning of campus grounds, and made his way down the sidewalk. He was so far away from home. Even the air smelled cleaner around this half of the city, Jean figured it was because everyone was happier over here; the older side of the city gave off a gloomier vibe.

Students were scattered around in different groups, chatting with each other while a large group of students exited one of the buildings. Class must have just gotten out for them as well.

It didn’t take long for Jean to realize that he was looking for someone.

His eyes scanned the groups of people as he walked, feeling more and more irritated as he went. What the hell was he doing? Searching for Marco among a sea of hundreds of people when there were too many different places he could be was ridiculous. He began to question whether he had a motive for walking this far out into the city. Was his subconscious pulling him here?

It didn’t matter, he wasn’t here. There were people, and lots of them, but none of them were who Jean was looking for. They all carried the same dull color to them as the city did, making it easy for Jean to pass them without a second glance.

 Jean shoved his hands into his pockets for extra warmth and made his way past the campus towards the library when he stopped in his tracks.

A very familiar young and _freckled_ man stood in front of the University campus sign laughing among a group of students. Someone said something to him and Marco tilted his head back and laughed into the air. He quickly recovered, adjusted the backpack slung across his shoulders, and happened to look in Jean’s direction as if he sensed that he was being watched.

Jean felt his stomach do a little somersault in the confines of his body and swallowed down the emotion bubbling up his throat. _Don’t do this._

Marco slowly registered that it was in fact Jean staring at him, and a bright, dorky smile bloomed across his face. Although the clouds covered everything in a seemingly permanent shade, Jean could have sworn he saw a ray of light.

 Jean raised one of his hands in a ‘hi’ gesture, but couldn’t find the courage to move any farther. He didn’t have to; Marco nodded at the group and made his way over to him.

“Jean! What are you doing here?” he looked like a typical college student; his jacket was completely unzipped, despite the cold, to reveal his flannel shirt and white t-shirt underneath. His smile did things to Jean’s heart that Jean couldn’t understand, but it was enough to make him feel _something_.

“I uh…” Shit, what should he say? _I wanted to see you so I walked all the way to your college campus to find you_. No, that wasn’t a good idea. He had to come up with something, and fast. His eyes trailed over the buildings until he knew what to say. “I was going to the library actually.”

_Good one Jean._

“Oh?” Marco raised an eyebrow as if he didn’t believe him. It was a pretty funny gesture; Jean tried to keep his cool under Marco’s intense stare. Just as Jean opened his mouth to remark on Marco’s expression, he heard an unmistakable voice behind him.

“Jean!!” Christa bounded across the street hand-in-hand with Ymir; a sparkling smile lighting up her face. “What are you doing here?”

Jean bit his cheek and tried to put on his best not-nervous smile. Christa was nice enough to not call Jean out on a lie, but it was Ymir he was worried about. She always seemed to know when Jean was lying about something, even when he believed he was doing a pretty decent job at it. She’d always keep her face in the stony “I know what you’ve done” face that broke him every time.

Ymir stared at Jean with an unreadable expression on her face, but with the way her eyes moved from Marco to Jean, it wasn’t hard to know what she was thinking.

“I’m just uh‒I was just on a walk and I, uh, ran into this guy.” Jean quickly gestured to Marco and cast his eyes down, growing gradually uncomfortable under Ymir’s gaze.

“Oh?” is all Ymir said, a smirk cracking her composure.

“What about you Christa? Whatcha all dressed up for?” Jean turned to Christa, hoping he’d be able to escape the teasing words that were going to come out of Ymir’s mouth soon enough. Christa smiled and idly tugged at her baby blue dress.

“Ymir’s treating me to a movie—”

“We’re on a date dumbass.” Ymir narrowed her eyes at Jean and tightened her hold on Christa. She glanced at Marco and looked him up and down. “So, are you going to introduce us to your college model friend or what?”

Marco chuckled under his breath, but he still reached up to scratch at the back of his neck; Jean was starting to suspect it was his nervous habit. “C-college model?”

            “He’s Marco, please don’t harass him.” Jean muttered. “Marco, this is Christa and…Ymir.” He gave Christa a pleading look when Ymir’s gaze didn’t waver. Marco did a small wave and smiled at her; Jean saw her eye twitch—Marco’s magic seemed to be infectious; it managed to catch Ymir’s attention, of all things.

            “Marco huh?” Ymir released Christa to circle Marco like a predatory hawk, her sharp eyes raking over every inch of him. “I guess I can approve. Why didn’t you tell us you had a new _friend_ Jean?”

            “Precisely for this reason.” Jean groaned. Christa giggled, reaching out to pull Ymir away from Marco with a playful smile.

Ymir wiggled her eyebrows and something wicked flashed across her eyes so quickly Jean barely caught it. She took Christa’s hand and kept the other in her sweatshirt pocket, turning to leave.

            “You’re lucky he’s so good-looking.” Ymir’s voice dropped into a teasing monotone. “ _But we all know that you’re the luckiest bastard there is._ ”

“I’m not that good-looking…” Marco replied honestly, completely missing the second half.

Jean could picture himself spitting fire.

He made sure his words came out venomous. “Well Ymir it was such a pleasant surprise seeing you. Have fun on your date.” He softened his expression when he turned to Christa. “Don’t get too crazy.”

            “No promises.” Christa saluted the two and gave an apologetic smile before she pulled Ymir along, her voice slipping into an angry hiss. “Stop causing trouble Ymir.”

Ymir made sure to give Jean a dirty look over her shoulder along with an obscene gesture as they made their way down the street. She altered her expression to a coy grin when she waved goodbye to Marco. After seeing Jean’s outraged expression she turned back around to give Christa all of her attention, slinging a lanky arm around the smaller girl’s shoulders as they got further from view.

“Friends of yours?” Marco inquired. He must have been thrown off by the scowl Jean had been giving Ymir as they left. Jean let out a sigh, his fingers straying to mess with his hair.

“Yeah, they’re a handful though.” Boy, Marco had no idea how dangerous Ymir could be. If anything, this was a lucky encounter. Jean’s had countless run ins with Ymir and, depending on her mood, had been subject to her varying levels of torture. Ymir had been the leading factor to some of Jean’s past breakups and maybe a year’s worth of nightmares. The only reason she wasn’t as hostile today was because of Christa. There was nothing Ymir hated more than looking bad in front of her girlfriend, so she usually toned down her harassment and sarcasm to a more tolerable level. It didn’t mean that her words hurt any less though. Jean knew Ymir was simply messing around; her humor just exceeded the normal guidelines and hovered between the lines of bullying and joking. Christa knew Ymir better than anyone else, and if anything, she was the one who taught Ymir to tone it down and be a little friendlier. Although Ymir was still far from friendly, she was certainly making progress.

As angry as Ymir made him, Jean had to admire her tenacity; not only that, but he had to admire her love for Christa. With Ymir being the god of Lust, it was surprising that she managed to stay with Christa exclusively. But that’s how it’d been since she met her and Jean figured that was the way it would stay. They had a special relationship that Jean couldn’t understand; it wasn’t just them—it was like that with Bertholdt and Reiner, Annie and Armin, and even Erwin and Levi. What qualities did they have that Jean didn’t? What was he missing?

As Jean watched the couple disappear around the street corner, he caught the eye of a figure standing in an alleyway of one of the buildings. It was so brief Jean wondered whether it had really happened; he only got a glimpse of the figure staring at him with bright crimson eyes before they disappeared after a car drove past, as if it were never there.

_That’s…really fucking weird._

            “Jean?” he jumped when Marco said his name. Marco looked at him as if he expected an answer from him.

“Y-yeah?”

Marco playfully rolled his eyes and pointed over his shoulder. “I said I have to go to the library to study, do you want to join me?”

            “Oh! Yeah of course!” Jean mentally stabbed himself for sounding so enthusiastic. He should not be this excited to go to the fucking library.

            “Do you go often?” Marco asked as they crossed the street and made their way towards the massive building.

Jean looked back towards the alley in case the figure reappeared. “Go where?”

He heard Marco sigh, but when he turned around Marco was wearing one of his smiles.

            “The library Jean.” He chuckled.

            “Oh! Yeah, all the time.” Accidental blatant lie number-one: Jean had only set foot in a library a few times in his life, he read so little he was beginning to wonder if he could read at all. Marco didn’t have to know that though. The lie simply came out because Jean was distracted and on edge. Too many things were happening this week, it was freaking him out. If it wasn’t the stress in Headquarters, it was his own worry driving him crazy.

He decided to tell Marco about the situation at the diner, remarking on how angry Reiner had been and the look of terror on the robbers’ faces. Marco’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he listened, and Jean could detect the worry creased in his forehead.

            “That sounds terrifying! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Jean chewed on his lip. Under normal circumstances, yeah it would give someone a rush of adrenaline when they feared for their own life, but that wasn’t how Jean experienced things. He got his fix from extreme conditions and suffering; he couldn’t explain that a man pointing a gun at him annoyed him more than frightening him. Marco was human; therefore he had the ability to empathize, an ability gods lacked. Jean had to remind himself that Marco caring for his safety (under the assumption that Jean was human) meant a lot and not something weightless.

            “I’m…alright. It was kind of funny actually.” Jean said slowly before quickly adding on to switch the situation away from himself. “Just seeing Reiner throw chairs like it was nothing and all…”

Marco measured his expression before breaking into a smile. “Sounds like quite the sight.”

Once they walked through the front doors, Jean sucked in a sharp breath. The place was _massive_ ; it only looked half its size on the outside, giving the library an almost intimidating feeling. The first floor had different sections, each with its own lounge and spacious area for check out. Chairs and couches were scattered around and there were separate rooms designated for computer usage in the corner. The center of the lobby was occupied by a spiral glass staircase that appeared to go up all four floors of the library. Near the main desk, Jean could see the doors to the elevators, which dinged open every now and then to let out passengers.

“Do you know what you’re looking for here?” Marco made his way towards the staircase and Jean followed him. When he looked up from the stairs, he could see that the top floor appeared to have a glass ceiling that reflected the dark and murky sky. It didn’t allow in any light today, but Jean could only imagine how beautiful it would look on a clear and sunny day. The light would fill the entire building and reflect off the neutral beige walls to give the library such a warm and comfortable atmosphere that Jean felt compelled to visit this place more often. _Was this the reason why college was so expensive? So they could build gigantic glass buildings full of books?_

Jean wondered what people normally look at in libraries. It had to be something believable for him; he couldn’t say something like ‘bird encyclopedia’ or ‘mystery novel’, Marco would never believe him.

            “Cookbooks.” Was the word that ended up coming out of his mouth. Marco looked over his shoulder in surprise once they reached the second floor.

            “You like to cook? That’s awesome!” Marco’s bright smile nearly blinded him again. He gave Marco a small smile before he scanned the sign hanging from the ceiling. He had to pretend like he knew where he was going…now where the hell were the cookbooks? Marco laughed lightly under his breath. Was he laughing at him? Jean figured he was. “Do you know where to go?”

“’Course I do.” Jean muttered and made his way down the rows of books in search of what he was looking for. Marco followed behind him in silence with a small smile lingering on his face.

Jean circled the entire second floor without any progress. He gestured for Marco to follow him up to the third floor and took the stairs two at a time. It was ridiculous, who needed so many damn books? Jean repeated his process of searching until he ended up back where he started with no luck (what did he expect?). He was fuming; he could feel his face burning as Marco gave him the smuggest smile Jean had ever seen.

“Jean, cookbooks are on the fourth floor.” Marco pointed up above them and giggled under Jean’s glare. “I thought you said that you’ve been here before.” He didn’t phrase it as a question, but as a teasing comment.

Jean glared at the stairs and bit his cheek. _Fucking smartass_. “Can it Freckles.” He stomped his way up to the fourth floor without looking back.

            “…Freckles?” Jean could hear the surprise in Marco’s voice followed by another light laugh as he followed Jean up the stairs. “Oh no, not you too!”

The second Jean planted his foot on the landing of the fourth floor he was overwhelmed with the rows and tables of cookbooks in plain sight. _You’ve got to be kidding me_.

Marco watched Jean walk up to one of the shelves and yank out a couple of books. Jean didn’t even care which ones he picked; just something to stare at until his face stopped fucking burning. Marco’s gaze made him feel as if he were under inspection or something; come on, give a guy a break!

They sat down at one of the tables next to a window that looked out into the library’s park. It was as empty as the section of the library they sat in, a lonely trash bag drifted through the field before it went airborne, only to get caught in the tree branches. Jean couldn’t help but think of the song he had heard Reiner singing just the other day as he watched it flutter in the wind. _Do you ever feel like a plastic bag?_

Jean swallowed his disgust and cursed Reiner to the deepest pit of Hell where he belonged. He’d probably throw a party there for all he knew. Jean knew it was bad times when Katy Perry came to mind, he knew it was even worse when he began to analyze the line. That plastic bags were empty and left behind after being used by others—in other words, him.

_Jesus I’m sympathizing with a fucking plastic bag._

Jean turned his attention beyond the bag. The sky had turned black, signaling the oncoming storm. As Jean spread his books in front of him, Marco pulled out his own and cracked them open with a sigh.

Jean had managed to pick up a cookbook on salads (what the hell? Salads didn’t seem complicated enough to need a recipe for), Italian cuisine, and one on assorted breakfast meals. Jean pushed aside the salad and Italian cookbooks to settle on the bigger (and more useful) one. Jean had spent a good amount of hours watching the Food Network (thanks to Erwin and Netflix) and discovered that he enjoyed watching people cook rather than doing it himself. He had no talent for cooking, he couldn’t even crack an egg without getting some of the shell in it, but that was okay, it wasn’t like he wanted to join the culinary profession or anything. From what he learned from Chef Gordon Ramsay, it was a rough business that many people fucked up in.

After flipping through the first couple of pages, Jean looked up to watch Marco stare at his book. His eyebrows were pushed together in concentration and his eyes moved across the page in a perfect, straight line. He glanced up through his long lashes to catch Jean looking at him. He smiled his perfect smile and went back to his reading.

They sat like that for a while; the only sound between them was the flipping of pages and an occasional sigh from one of them. The silence was comfortable, which Jean appreciated; normally he would be nervous without anyone making conversation. Even if they were talking, Jean didn’t really have anything to say that could connect with Marco, so his choice of subjects was limited anyway. Once Jean had flipped through his first cookbook, he pushed it aside and started looking at Italian cuisine, which looked both complicated and way too fancy for his taste. Marco started to massage his temples and peeled his eyes from his book to look up at Jean with a tired smile.

“Find any good recipes?”

Jean kept his finger between his current page and the next one. He raised an eyebrow at the recipe he was looking at: some soup called _Zuppa Toscana_. It sounded interesting and it didn’t look like too much work, but it was likely that Jean would never make it. “Not really, some of these are too much work. How’s your studying going?”

Marco rested his head in his palm and sighed. “I think my brain’s short-circuiting.”

Jean snorted and flipped the page, maybe a little too quickly because he heard a rip, and gave Marco a teasing look. “How hard can it be to be a doctor?”

Marco rolled his eyes. “Jean, do you even know how many bones there are in the human body?”

            “Sure, it’s a hundred and twenty.”

Marco shook his head and closed his book. “There’s two hundred and six Jean.”

Jean smiled and closed his cookbook. “I was close.” He listened to Marco’s quiet laugh; he had toned his voice down ever since they walked into the library, typical respectful Marco. They stared at each other for a few seconds in silence. Marco’s eyes searched Jean’s face as if he were looking for something, and Jean’s eyes watched his warily as if Marco would find something he wasn’t supposed to see. They both jumped when there was a crack of thunder; lightning lit the sky for a brief moment and cast the room in an eerie glow.

“We should probably leave before it starts pouring out.” Marco scooped up his books and gracefully dumped them into his black backpack. He pointed at the books in front of Jean and raised his eyebrow. “Are you going to check those out?”

            “Nah. I was just browsing.” _And I don’t have a library card_ ; Jean mentally added. Once again, that was something Marco didn’t have to know.

            “Well if you find something and make it, you’re gonna have to let me try it.” Marco remarked as he slid on his backpack. Jean froze in place with his arm half extended towards his stack of books and his mouth agape in surprise. He wasn’t expecting the words at all, and Marco seemed to sense Jean’s minute inner panic. He began to backtrack immediately. “I-I mean if you ever want me to…”

Jean blinked at him, trying to force the cogs in his head to start moving correctly again.

            “N-no, I mean yeah! I’d uh…like that…” Jean dropped his gaze and focused his attention on the floor. He wondered if Marco was simply joking, but then again the guy didn’t appear like the kind of person to mess with someone. Jean couldn’t even understand why the comment had flustered him, was it because he wasn’t used to others seeking his company?

He didn’t look up to see Marco’s expression as they abandoned their table and when Jean tried to leave the books, he received a small lecture from Marco and was forced to put them back where he found them.

“You know…putting the books back is an actual job.” Jean scanned the shelves, looking for the empty spot he’d taken his books from.

            “Yeah, but it’s a nice gesture.” Marco murmured from behind him. He didn’t offer Jean any hints on what direction he should be heading in; he seemed to be waiting for Jean to ask him. Fair enough, Jean had been wandering for the past ten minutes trying to figure out where he was, let alone where he had gotten the stupid books.

            “Since you’re waiting for me to ask…” Jean turned around to face Marco, who was a lot closer to him than he expected, and nearly collided with his chest. “Where did I get these from?”

Marco sighed and moved to take the books from Jean. Their hands brushed as Jean slid the books into Marco’s arms and Jean had to press himself against the shelves to let Marco pass him. Marco squeezed past Jean and made his way down the rows before taking a sudden turn into another section, guided by some unseen compass. Jean followed slowly behind him, keeping an eye on his figure through the slots in the bookshelves so he wouldn’t get lost. He tried to pinpoint the scent that Marco carried on him; a faint smell that reminded him of sandalwood along with something else. It wasn’t an overpowering smell, but it smelled good.

_Don’t smell your friends Jean._

Marco came back around the corner and gestured for Jean to follow him towards the landing. Once they reached the staircase, Jean’s grip tightened on the railing twice as much as it had on the way up.

When he looked down, he could see straight to the first floor, which was a pretty _long_ way down. The unstoppable plummet to the hard granite floors below would take less than three seconds, but it would be enough. Jean couldn’t shake the thought from his mind as he tried to keep up with Marco’s fast pace down the stairs.

 Jean didn’t realize that he was shaking until when they reached the main floor. He let out the breath he’d been holding and gave Marco a satisfied smirk. Marco smiled back and they stepped out into the humid air. A small raindrop landed right in Jean’s eye once they reached the street, causing him to scowl as he rubbed the nasty polluted water out of his eye.

            “I think we might get rained on.” Marco mused as they speed-walked down the street back towards the less busy part of town. Jean could only agree. The sky reminded him of the day he first met Marco, except his storm was much more impressive than this.

Jean was truly grateful to Marco, that day he may not have saved him from death, but he saved him from a lot of trouble. If Jean was human, and sometimes he wished he was, Marco would have been Jean’s life-saver and that meant a lot to him. Marco had taken the action of noticing that he was stepping into the street and stopped him. He felt grateful that Marco was one of the people he felt surprisingly comfortable with, and that they could walk in silence without the need to say anything to one another. Another crack of thunder made Jean jump into Marco as they waited to cross the street. Marco steadied Jean on his feet and let out a little hum. “You okay Jean?”

Jean stiffened under Marco’s slight touch and curtly nodded.

“Yeah.” Marco narrowed his eyes ever so slightly, but let Jean go so they could cross the street. They walked in silence again after that as the steady fall of the light rain started to pick up and pelt them with pretty decent sized droplets.

            “Well I have to go this way.” Marco stopped at the crosswalk and pointed to his left. “It was nice seeing you.” he hesitated as if he were going to say something else, but he didn’t. Jean felt something in his gut as he rocked on his heels next to him. He was worried. About what, Jean didn’t know exactly, but he did know that the city wasn’t as safe as it used to be.

            “Marco…” Jean’s voice cracked in the middle of his name and Jean frowned. _Not cool Jean_.

            “Yeah?”

            “Can I…uh, could uh…” Jean could only grimace at his poor speaking skills. “Can I give you my number? I just want to make sure you get home safe and stuff…”

Marco blinked, causing a couple of drops to fall down his cheeks like tears. His face lit up again with that contagious smile of his.

            “Of course!” He pulled out his phone and slid it into Jean’s awaiting hand. Jean looked down at it; it was a sleek white iPhone and lacked a case, but Jean knew that Marco would be too responsible to drop it in the first place. He made a face at Marco when he got the lock screen, but Marco simply told him the passcode and how to get to the contacts list. He chuckled at Jean’s ignorance on how to work the phone and his fingers brushed against Jean’s as he showed him where to put in his information. Humans and their technology; they thought they were _so_ smart. It was the second time Marco’s hands touched his; they were warm and unbelievably soft. They moved swiftly over the screen despite the cold, unlike Jean’s clumsy attempt at typing.

Once Jean typed his number into Marco’s phone, he handed it back as carefully as possible.

            “Don’t forget to text me when you get home.” Jean said and punched the button for the light to change. Marco slid his phone into his back pocket and waved.

            “I won’t forget! I hope you know that I won’t stop bugging you now!”

            “You send me one chain-mail message and I’ll kill you!” Jean shouted as he crossed the street. He heard Marco’s laughter behind him as they went their separate ways. Once he was out of Marco’s view, he made sure to turn his phone on vibrate so he knew when he got a new message. It was a pretty sly way of getting his number, Jean had to admit, but he didn’t have an underlying message behind it. He was truly concerned for Marco’s safety, as a friend. Of course, it would be helpful in the future if he wanted to ask him something instead of making the hike all the way up to Marco’s campus again. So why was he so fucking happy?

As soon as Jean stepped into the main entrance of his apartment building, he shook out his hair like a dog and let out a loud sigh. He had nearly run the entire way home out of fear that he’d be struck by lightning, yeah it was a low possibility, but not when you were _the fucking god of Misfortune_. He had barely made it up the staircase towards his apartment when he heard a sound of disgust behind him.

            “Oh what a shame it rained on you.”

Jean turned around to see his arch-nemesis in the flesh. More like the devil who decided to take the form of an old ornery Chinese woman who lived downstairs and spent her days trying to make him miserable. She always gave him the same sour look with her old wrinkly face and beady brown eyes; they used to give him chills but now it just brought out his sarcasm.

            “It wasn’t like it came down all of a sudden.” Jean put on his best sneer and leaned on the railing to look at her. “By the way Ling how’re your fifty cats?”

Ling lifted the corner of her lip and made her way towards the front door with her umbrella. “My nine beautiful cats are doing great. A cat would teach you some morals.”

            “I’m more of a dog person actually.” Jean shrugged at her as she shot him a dirty look. Without another word Jean turned back to continue up the stairs with a small cloud of irritation hovering over him like the rainclouds outside. That was a lie; Jean couldn’t stand dogs, but he wasn’t going to let Ling get the last word. Not in this life.

He nearly broke down the door unlocking it and stepped into his dark hallway, which held a faint scent of rain. Jean must have left the window in the living room cracked, letting in the slightly disgusting smell of the wet city.

Jean was kicking off his shoes in the hallway when his phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out in record speed and nearly dropped it on the floor.

**From: XXX-XXX-XXXX**

**I’m home safe! :)** **  
**

Jean found himself grinning like an idiot at the message for longer than necessary. Of course Marco would be the type of guy to use emoticons.

**To: XXX-XXX-XXXX**

**Thanks for remembering Freckles.**

**From: XXX-XXX-XXXX**

**:D You’re welcome**

Jean got a response in less than thirty seconds. Kudos to you Marco, not only was he perfect, he was the speedy replier too. Knowing that Marco made it home safe took a load off his chest. As long as he wasn’t bothered by any creepy alley dudes on his way home, Jean would be able to sleep a little better at night. Just as Jean locked his phone, a new message appeared on his screen, but it wasn’t from Marco.

**From: Momma-Reiner**

**I heard from a rambunctious birdy that some1 has a new friend? Wats that about?**

Jean frowned at the message; he reminded himself to change the contact name later, that and to murder Ymir the next time he saw her. He didn’t plan on answering Reiner’s message until another popped up.

**From: Momma-Reiner**

**I heard he’s supa cute and goes to Trost Uni? Oh and btw we all have to be at HQ tomorrow cuz Erwin’s actually having a baby. I think it’s a boy. Pretty sure Levi is the father. Bring balloons**

**To: Momma-Reiner**

**Did something happen while we were out?**

**From: Momma-Reiner**

**Oh I see where ur priorities r that’s cool**

**Oh nothing, just a possible declaration of war thts all. Bert says hi**

Jean stared at Reiner’s response in shock _. A possible declaration of war?_ Had things gotten so bad, it’d come to that? If Jean were Erwin, he would’ve panicked, packed his bags, and flown to some far-off island by now. Reiner’s joke about Erwin having a baby might be an understatement. He sent Reiner his response as he made his way through the living room and into his bedroom. At least Reiner appeared to be in a more joking mood than he was earlier today.

**To: Momma-Reiner**

**I’m assuming things will be explained tomorrow, so I’ll be there. What happened at Harry’s after I left?**

**And Hi Bert**

**From: Momma-Reiner**

**JEAN I’M FAMOUS THERE NOW AND I GET FREE FOOD FOR LIFE!**

Jean snickered as he locked his phone and tossed it onto his bed without replying. Leave it to Reiner to become the center of attention. It would definitely take a while to clean up that mess, especially with the public.

 But Jean had a mess of his own. He had clothes accumulating on his floor again; his short-lived cleaning spree would be a rare occurrence indeed. He face-planted on his bed and felt around for his phone; he still had to change the contact names. He changed Reiner’s name back to “Meathead” and Marco’s contact to “Freckles”. Jean snorted at his name choices as if he were the funniest guy on the planet and dropped his phone onto his chest. He felt strangely at peace; he had the impression that today would be miserable, but it was actually one of his better days. Yeah, the past couple of days had been rough, but if he hadn’t gone out today or gone out with Connie the day before, he would still be lying in his bed and feeling like shit, as per usual, wallowing in his pathetic immortal existence.

Today his existence felt a little less pathetic, and that was definitely a start. If he kept it up, maybe he’d be able to hate himself a little less. That would be nice. Jean couldn’t help but laugh; it was only short-lived when Jean suddenly remembered the heart attack-on-a-bun he’d eaten earlier with Reiner. It was one of the worst decisions of his life. He could just imagine the grease and fat churning inside of him, threatening to come back up the way it had gone down.

Jean blew out a breath and pushed back his damp hair.

            “Ah…my stomach hurts…” he complained aloud to no one in particular. The only response he received was a powerful roar of thunder that rattled his windows.

It wasn’t bad luck that came to haunt him, but rather his bad decisions. It definitely wasn’t the first time it had happened, and it didn’t feel like it would be his last.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I have to say, this is the longest chapter I’ve edited yet! I’m sorry it took so long for this to get uploaded guys, I can say that a lot of that was my fault, due to final projects and papers and all that. But I’m happy to say our high school careers are done and we’ve got the whole summer to relax, make money, and of course continue these fanfics. Hope you enjoyed that chapter, and as always, please comment and let us know your thoughts! They’re always appreciated!   
> ^^^  
> I HEAVILY APOLOGIZE FOR THE HOLD-UP!!!!  
> But yeah we were piled high with last minute school work and finals and then prom and graduation and holy crap time flies doesn't it?!! I have so many chapters piled up that are already written so hopefully the next few chapters will be up and running in a much more reasonable amount of time, so don't think I've given up yet!!   
> I'm pretty sure some bonding stuff happens in the next chapter!


	8. Mask

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean can’t shake the nervousness he’s feeling. Going to the aquarium shouldn’t be this nerve-wracking, especially since it’s just with Marco. Right?

It didn’t make sense.

Erwin’s mouth was moving, the words were coming out, but the message got lost on its way to Jean’s ears. It may have been due to the excess background noise in the room, or simply due to Jean’s refusal to believe that those were the words Erwin chose to share with them. Jean had spent a majority of the morning preparing himself for the worst, signing an imaginary will or dreaming about buying plane tickets to fly somewhere far, far away. Instead he got something worse to worry about.

Jean met Erwin’s stony expression with one of minute shock. His blue eyes began to waver under Jean’s gaze, unable to conceal the flash of regret before it once again went dormant. The room continued on with its separate conversations, completely overlooking the announcement that was made as if it were normal. Jean dared to look away from Erwin to see if anyone else was reacting in the correct sense—as in not celebrating, but fearing for their life. Levi didn’t look surprised, he held the same facial expression as he normally did during meetings; discomforted, mildly annoyed, and unquestionably exhausted. He kept his eyes trained on the back of Erwin’s head as he sat perched on one of the tables in the corner of the room, away from the conference table and the conversation.

            “I’m sorry…” Jean slowly stood up and braced his weight on the table in case his body gave out on him. “You did…what again?”

“I bought tickets for us to go to the aquarium.” Erwin said simply. He leaned back in his seat at the head of the table and gave Levi a quick glance. “I’ve never been and I thought it would be a nice experience for all of us.”

_Aquarium?_

            “I’m so excited! Will there be dolphins? I want to see dolphins!” Sasha’s voice rose above the others as she danced around Connie’s seat. Jean tried to ignore her voice like the others as he collapsed back into his seat.

Reiner and Bert had also dropped out of the conversation. Bert drew lazy circles with a pen on a notepad while Reiner stared down at the hard, polished surface of the table with an expression Jean couldn’t place. Armin flipped absentmindedly through files from his spot next to Erwin, keeping himself distracted to avoid eye contact with anyone. The room was divided; half seemed to know the truth about what was happening while the other half seemed completely ignorant. Or at least, they were trying to be ignorant.

Something was wrong here.

The city was supposed to be in a state of crisis, a major fact none of the gods seemed to be able to pick up on…why the hell were they going look at a bunch of fish tanks for a day?

They were called in here for a serious meeting for Erwin to announce that they were going on a fucking field trip? There had to be something else.

But Erwin wasn’t talking. Or at least, not to them; he and Levi were whispering to each other at the other end of the table. Levi stood with his arms crossed and a scowl fixed on his face while Erwin looked up at him from his seat with tired eyes and a tight smile.

Erwin was hiding something. Jean could only assume that he had bad news to tell them, but he was waiting for a better opportunity. Now didn’t seem like the time for group leisure activities, considering the crime happening in the city, and he didn’t have Jean fooled. This was a distraction, but why was he pulling that card now?

Erwin met Jean’s gaze once again and offered him a look that could be roughly translated as ‘I’ll tell you later’.

“Erwin! What about Jean?” Sasha said suddenly, causing the room to fall silent and turn their gaze on Jean in curiosity.

“What about Jean?” Erwin narrowed his eyes at Sasha in confusion. Jean could feel himself shrinking away from the attention, wishing he could vanish in the cushions of his seat and hide until the meeting was over. He didn’t know what Sasha was going to say, but he didn’t want to be here to hear it.

“I think Jean should bring his friend _Marco_ so he won’t be lonely.” If Jean could describe the fucking _lechery_ in Sasha’s voice when she said Marco’s name, he wouldn’t because it was just…bad, so bad. Of course she knew about Marco _. Of fucking course_.

Jean shot Ymir and Reiner the dirtiest glares he could muster. Ymir sneered back at him whole-heartedly while Reiner kept his gaze trained on the table. Jean could tell Reiner felt his gaze burning into him; it showed when the corners of his mouth twitched up in an attempt to not laugh. Before turning back to Sasha, Jean caught a sympathetic glance from Connie before he too ducked away from eye contact. It seemed they were all to blame.

Erwin blinked at Jean, his eyebrows slowly pulling together and breaking his perfect composure. “Who is Marco?”

“No one!” Jean jumped out of his seat at the same time as Sasha, who flew to Erwin’s side and threw her arms around his shoulders.

            “Jean has a new attractive friend named Marco.” She nearly whispered into his ear, “I hear he smells like the beach and he’s really nice.”

“You don’t even know him!” Jean could feel his face burning. _Oh kill me now or else I will launch Sasha out the fucking window._

            “Marco.” Reiner said slowly and looked at Bert with an unreadable expression. “His name is Marco.” _Did he not know this before?!_

            “And he’s attractive.” Ymir wiggled her eyebrows and threw a look at Erwin. Levi watched the room with an unamused expression before he let out a sigh.

“Should I go order an extra ticket?” Erwin nodded at Levi’s question and Sasha squealed, prompting Erwin to lean away and lightly try to pry her arms off of him.

Jean found himself at a loss for words. He didn’t understand how the day’s events had led him to where he stood now; he felt similar to a deer in the headlights, trapped under the gaze of everyone with nowhere to run. This was why he hated his friends.

Erwin seemed to read the anger in Jean’s eyes perfectly.

“You should bring your friend along Jean.” He cast a sympathetic gaze to Jean, but seemed to agree that Marco should come. He was still trying to shake Sasha off, but she seemed pretty adamant on staying latched to his back. “It’ll be fun…Sasha would you please let go?”

“Does this aquarium have a food court?” Jean couldn’t ignore the way she leaned in to give Erwin a slightly indecent sniff.

            “Yes.”

Sasha released Erwin’s shirt and flung herself at Connie. He tried to lean away from her, but instead ended up getting the most of her weight on his chest before the chair tipped back and dumped them on the floor.

The room launched itself back into conversation while Jean remained where he stood with his hands balled into fists at his side. There was no way he would bring Marco into this fucking tease-fest hosted by his friends for the entire day, no way.

But if he didn’t ask Marco to go along, he’d be alone on this trip. Jean was Headquarters’ thirteenth wheel. Erwin had Levi, Reiner had Bert, Annie had Armin, Mikasa had Eren, Ymir had Christa, Connie had Sasha…who did Jean have? Everyone was going to go off with their partner and probably make out or worse. He would take teasing any day if it meant he could avoid seeing that.

“We’re heading out tomorrow morning.” Erwin stood up and adjusted the collar of his shirt (which was wrinkled thanks to Sasha). “Ten A.M sharp or Levi will make us leave without you.”

            “Are we meeting here?” Reiner asked. He had intertwined his fingers with Bert’s and brushed his lips over them as he watched the ensuing chaos. Bert’s cheeks were flushed a faint pink from the display of public affection, despite being used to it for more than a century.

            “Ah…” Erwin’s eyes moved back to Jean. “No, considering Marco’s human. We’ll pick you all up from your homes. Jean, have Marco at your place when we come alright?”

Erwin didn’t wait for an answer and stepped out of the conference room. Jean watched him go down the hall and upstairs, probably to his office.

Jean didn’t even know if he was going to invite Marco, Erwin didn’t have to alternate his plans just to accommodate him. The main reason why Marco couldn’t come here was because of their trick on human perception. While Headquarters looked like a tall glass office building on the corner of Main Street to them, to humans it looked like an abandoned warehouse next to more abandoned warehouses. If they all met in front of an “abandoned warehouse”, Marco would probably be a little skeptical, so that wouldn’t work out so well for Jean’s image.

So what was he going to do? Levi and Erwin already went to order an extra ticket and everyone was assuming that Marco was coming. Marco might have classes tomorrow, and considering it was a Friday, he might not even want to come.

A light touch on his arm made Jean flinch. He turned to see Connie standing behind him with a slightly rueful expression.

            “You really should invite him Jean, you’ll have more fun with him around.” He dropped his smile when Jean didn’t respond. “I’m sorry about Sasha man…you know she only means the best.”

            “My ass.” Jean huffed. He watched Sasha chase Eren and Mikasa out of the conference room and down the hall towards the staircase with a loud howl. Annie and Armin were talking in hushed whispers as they walked by while Ymir remained in her seat and braided Christa’s hair. Reiner and Bert followed behind the others, waving to Connie and Jean as they passed.

“I mean it.” Connie punched Jean this time, hard enough to leave a bruise. Connie gave him a cheeky grin and a salute before he chased after Sasha, leaving Jean in the doorway of the conference room.

Jean dragged his feet as he left Headquarters; he alternated between typing a text to Marco and deleting it. He didn’t know how to phrase his words, which was why texting made him nervous. Every time he opened up a new message, he would close it. Every word he typed out sounded wrong so he deleted it. He finally came up with a decent message while he sat on the stairs in the doorway of his apartment; too stressed to actually step inside.

**> >>To: Freckles**

**Hey, so I’m being dragged to the aquarium tomorrow with some friends and I have an extra ticket, wanna come?**

Jean stared at the message after he sent it until the screen turned black. He felt like he couldn’t physically move from his spot until he got a response. Rooted to the stairs, he stared at his phone, already regretting the text message he had sent. It was too random, too straightforward, not only that, it was weird. He wasn’t close to Marco, why would he even want to go to a fucking aquarium with him in the first place? Jean didn’t have much time to beat himself up over it though, Marco responded in less than two minutes.

**> >>From: Freckles**

**Tomorrow? I might be able to go…is that really ok?**

Jean breathed out a sigh of relief and cursed at the fact that his hands were shaking.

**> >>To: Freckles**

**Yeah of course**

**Please come I don’t want to be the thirteenth wheel again**

**> >>From: Freckles**

**Thirteenth wheel?! Oh geez that doesn’t sound like fun…what time? :)** **  
**

Jean clutched his phone to his chest and leaned back on the stairs; which was probably a bad idea considering the stairs were filthy. God bless Marco and his saint-like personality.

**> >>To: Freckles**

**10 am sharp, you can meet me at my place. I can pick you up beforehand or send you directions?**

**> >>From: Freckles**

**Directions would be great! I’ll make sure to be on time!**

Jean pulled himself to his feet with help from the railing and climbed the rest of the stairs to the landing. He sent the directions while he unlocked his door and stepped inside. Marco responded with a thumbs-up emoticon; leaving Jean a smiling mess. Marco had saved him yet again.

Jean actually found himself excited for tomorrow. He wanted to go despite not caring about fish or anything in the ocean. At least he wasn’t dreading it; the day might go well, maybe he’d even have fun.

 

 

Friday morning hit Jean faster than he expected it to.

The annoying blaring sound of his alarm clock pulled him out of his dreamless slumber and into the harsh sunlight that came through his windows, revealing the millions of little dust particles floating around in the air. Jean watched them dance for a few minutes, still lingering onto his half-asleep state before he sat up and looked around his room.

He decided that today was worthy of a fresh pair of jeans and one of his ACDC T-shirts, a rare occasion calls for clean clothes, or so he thought. Once he’d gotten dressed and ready, Jean began to regret his decision to get up early; it was only nine-thirty and he had nothing to do. He walked into his kitchen and bumbled around, eating handfuls of dry cereal (because there wasn’t any milk) and rocked back on his heels as he watched the hands on the clock tick closer to ten.

The doorbell buzzed at nine-forty five, prompting Jean to abandon his box of cereal and head into the hallway. Marco stood at the bottom of the staircase and smiled one of his Hollywood smiles when Jean stepped out.

            “Good morning Jean!”

Jean walked up to the railing and leaned over it with a smirk.

            “Of course you’d be right on time.”

Marco didn’t drop his smile, but his brows furrowed together a little. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jean shook his head. “Give me a second okay?” He ducked back into his apartment to retrieve his coat. He made sure he had his wallet and keys before he stepped back outside and locked the apartment door. Marco stared out the glass front door with his hands buried in his coat pockets; he glanced back at Jean when he heard the door close.

            “So what are your friends like?” Marco asked. Jean took the stairs two at a time and paused when he was only a few steps higher than him.

            “They’re assholes.” Jean finally said and gave him a light pat on the shoulder. “We just have to endure.”

Marco shook his head with a chuckle and followed Jean out the door. They were barely outside for five minutes before a large black bus pulled up in front of the apartment. Connie stuck his head out of one of the tinted windows and whistled at them.

            “Come join the party!” he shouted. Sasha popped her head out the window next to him and flashed them the peace sign.

Marco stared at the bus in awe. Jean could only imagine what was going through his mind right now; hopefully it wasn’t as ridiculous as Jean thought it was. He gestured for Marco to follow him onto the bus. The interior was dark, but dim lights illuminated the black leather seats and lit the way down the aisles. If the windows weren’t rolled down to let in the sunlight, it would feel like they were travelling at night rather than in the morning.

 Jean saw Connie and Sasha bouncing around in their seats at the back of the bus, as eager as ever to go on a new adventure. Erwin and Levi sat at the front, both wearing equally frozen masks of indifference; Erwin scrolled through his iPhone while Levi glared angrily out the window.

“Good morning.” Erwin looked up at them with a warm smile; his eyes on Marco. Jean could see the small evaluation he was giving Marco—judging character, appearance, and temperament. Levi pretended like he didn’t see them.

            “This is a pretty…impressive bus…” Marco told Erwin with wide eyes.

            “Always overdoing it.” Levi muttered.

            “Jean sit by us!” Reiner shouted from his seat in the middle row and smacked at the empty seats beside him. Bert had one of those sleeping masks on his face, and it looked like he was out cold. Christa and Ymir sat in the seats next to Connie and Sasha, chatting up a storm while Annie and Armin shared headphones a few seats ahead of them. Eren and Mikasa weren’t talking, but they had their attention on something Jean couldn’t see.

“Are you ready?” Jean asked Marco. He gave Jean a nod and they moved to drop into the seats next to Reiner and Bert. Jean decided to spare Marco and took the aisle seat, which proved to be a good idea when Reiner turned his entire body to face them. He reached across the aisle to pat Jean heavily on the shoulder before leaning around him to get a look at Marco.

“Nice to meet you Marco! Boy have I heard things about you!”

            “You didn’t hear anything.” Jean quickly replied. Marco blinked at the two before he grinned.

            “I have heard things.” Reiner wiggled his eyebrows and smiled. “Aren’t you going to introduce us Jean?”

            “Nope.” Jean glared at Reiner, but he didn’t get the hint. When Reiner leaned in closer, Jean moved to block his view of Marco, which resulted in Reiner pushing Jean’s face into his own lap so he could converse with Marco and use Jean’s back as an armrest. Reiner’s weight forced Jean’s ribs against his thighs, giving him a lovely view of bus’s pristine floor.

            “I’m Reiner and that’s Bert over there.” Reiner said with a proud puff of his chest that pushed more weight onto Jean’s spine, forcing him to let out a low groan.

“Nice to meet you.” Marco replied as politely as ever. Even though Jean couldn’t see him, he knew he was still smiling despite Reiner’s intimidation.

            “Please get off of me…”

            “Marco!” Sasha squealed and ran up the aisles and leaned over the seat behind them. Reiner’s weight disappeared off of Jean’s back, allowing him to sit up and give Sasha a death stare. Sasha didn’t even know Marco, but it was just like her to bounce her way into someone else’s circle. “Hi! I’m Sasha, big fan!”

Marco met her wide brown eyes with a friendly gaze. Her choice of words made a laugh bubble to the surface. “A fan? Gee, what has Jean been telling you guys?”

            “You saved our dumb baby from getting plowed down by a bus!” Sasha gave Jean a rough pat on the head.

Reiner shook his head. “No Sasha, it was a truck.”

Jean groaned. “It was a car.”

A hint of scarlet touched Marco’s cheeks.

            “Oh that?” he waved away the attention. “That was just fast acting!”

            “Marco you’re like our hero!” Sasha moved to ruffle Marco’s hair next and he made the mistake of letting her.

            “I’m not a hero!” he laughed in response, pushing back the stray hairs Sasha stirred up.

Jean didn’t have to tell them to cut it out; the revving of the bus engine did that for him as they pulled away from the curb. Sasha darted back to her seat as their little journey started, and Jean could only hope that no one would bother them for the rest of the bus ride. He had to admit that it seemed like a lot to ask.

“I told you they were assholes.” Jean said quietly enough for only Marco to hear. He gave Jean a humoring look and leaned his head against the window.

            “I think they’re great.”

            “You won’t be saying that for long.” Jean muttered back and sunk low into his seat. He watched the city fly past through Marco’s window with a dull nostalgia. He remembered when he would get the thrill of leaving the city, going somewhere he didn’t know off the back of his hand, but it was long gone now. Once you left the city it was nothing but roads and little stores scattered around empty plots of land. Jean wondered why an aquarium was never built in the city, it would attract more people and add a little excitement to boring city life; yet instead it was way out in the middle of nowhere.

The aquarium had been built a little less than a decade ago, and now as Jean saw it up close, it looked a lot more modern than how he’d expected it. The building was dominated by glass windows and built with white brick, making it sparkle in the sunlight. Jean could hear the collective _ooh_ s and _aah_ s from his friends around him as they pulled into the parking lot and stopped in front of the entrance.

Single-file lines appeared to be a foreign idea to everyone on the bus. Connie and Sasha clambered over seats trying to beat Reiner and Bert out the door. Erwin and Levi waited until the animals tumbled out of the bus and stood up; Marco and Jean weren’t far behind them.

            “Wow, this is…impressive.” Marco said quietly. Jean nodded in agreement as they followed the group through the front doors and into the humid aquarium. Erwin held out an arm to stop Sasha from flying past the admission booth and had to struggle to hold her back as he handed the woman behind the glass their tickets.

Jean noticed the small flush in her cheeks as she stamped the tickets and the overly-curious look she gave Erwin as she handed them back. Jean also noticed Levi curl his lip in a silent territorial growl.

“Listen everyone‒ _Sasha please_.” Erwin stood at the front of the group, still struggling with an excited Sasha, and narrowed his eyes at them. “You’re free to do whatever you’d like, but don’t cause trouble and don’t leave. If you need anything, Levi and I will be wandering around, just come and find us okay?”

Erwin got a few distracted apprehensive mumbles, which he took as a strong ‘understood’, and released Sasha. She went barreling through the hall with Connie on her heels, both already screeching in delight. Jean watched Erwin roll his eyes and slowly follow Levi, who went in the opposite direction as the crazy duo (a smart move indeed).

The most entertaining part of the trip so far was Marco’s reactions. At the moment, Marco had his face twisted into genuine concern and Jean loved it. Now someone could see exactly what he had to deal with every single day!

            “It’s only the beginning.” Jean nudged Marco with his elbow and motioned for them to move farther inside.

            “They sure have a lot of energy.” Marco muttered and followed Jean into the main lobby. “It seems like the older two are the parents.”

            “Basically.” Jean replied over his shoulder. “I sure as hell can’t keep them in check.”

Once they passed the ticket area, the aquarium opened up to reveal a massive floor to ceiling tube in the center of the room filled with crystal blue water. Hundreds of differently colored fish swam around the coral reefs and mingled in the vibrant green weeds near the bottom of the glass. The sight nearly took Jean’s breath away and brought him to a stop to admire the various colors in front of him. Marco seemed to be as amazed as Jean; he made an audible intake of breath and took a couple of steps closer to the glass to get a good look. Christa and Ymir stood on the other side of the tank, holding hands and laughing together as they watched the fish swim by. Jean caught Ymir’s gaze and she wiggled her eyebrows at him with a dirty look in her eyes. He watched her mimic licking the glass with an unimpressed expression.

“Anything in particular you want to see?” Marco’s voice made him jump, causing an amused smile to appear on Marco’s face.

            “I, uh‒no, nothing in particular…” Jean muttered and peeled his eyes from Ymir with a sigh.

Marco kept his smile and strode off towards the nearest exhibit; Jean followed a few steps behind. He didn’t like the look in Ymir’s eyes. It usually meant that she was planning something, and that only added to the newborn paranoia Jean was nursing in his mind.

Here they were, surrounded by of water and glass. Breakable glass. He didn’t doubt that there were sharks somewhere in the aquarium, or dangerous poisonous spiders that could kill with a single bite (Jean didn’t have to be concerned about that, but he still hated spiders). Being the god of Misfortune, it wouldn’t exactly be unusual for something bad to happen today.

Marco neared the glass to peer at one of the most poisonous frogs in the world with an intrigued look on his face. Jean could feel his panic kick in when the frog eyed them with an angry glare.

“Are you okay being so close to the, uh, glass?” Jean had his hands in his pockets and stood in the center of the exhibit, equidistant from all of the different stations.

Marco looked at him over his shoulder and furrowed his brows. “Jean, there’s glass between you and the animal.”

            “Well, what if the glass, like…breaks?”

            “And why would the glass break?” Marco poked the glass between him and the frog with a smirk. “Do you think a frog can break through this?”

Jean pictured the frog smashing through the glass and latching onto Marco’s freckled face.

He let out a breath and moved a little closer to the different boxes, examining the different river creatures with a healthy amount of wariness. Marco was really into reading the little descriptions for each and every creature; even on the little spiders that freaked Jean out more than anything else.

They spent almost half an hour in the first exhibit before they crossed a fake bridge into the next one. The speakers blared out safari noises and Jean could hear the sound of a waterfall as birds chirped, signaling the beginning of the bird exhibit. A massive red bird cawed as angrily as possible at Jean and forced him to back against the wall.

            “Not much of a fan with animals, are you?” Marco mused as he regarded the bird ruffling its feathers.

            “They aren’t fans of me.” Jean grumbled back and continued down the hall. He didn’t like birds. They were loud, they shed feathers like crazy, they smelled, they pooped everywhere, and they were devils in disguise as fluffy pets.

Jean could deal with monkeys though.

He watched them dance around each other and pull their tails while screaming in their monkey-language. Watching them reminded Jean of Connie and Sasha‒if only they were here for Jean to call them out. The couple would fit in right with the happy monkey family. The gorillas were pretty cool too; they lounged around on rocks and occasionally scratched at their fat bellies when they gathered enough energy to move.

            “Jean, look!” Jean turned to see Marco pointing at one of the baby monkeys. Sure enough, it was making faces at Marco, and hid behind its hands as if it were playing hide and seek. Marco humored it and peeked at it from between his fingers and the monkey let out a delighted screech.

_That’s just…adorable_.

Jean watched their game with a smile on his face. Seeing Marco giggling with the monkey made him feel a little more at ease.

“Looks like you got yourself a new friend.” Jean commented and moved to stand next to Marco. The baby monkey looked at Jean and covered his face again.

            “I think he wants you to play the game too.” Marco said. Jean gave Marco a ‘really?’ look and groaned before he covered his face with his hands.

He peeked at the monkey and it let out another happy scream before running up and down the branch it sat perched on. It hopped from branch to branch screeching and attracted a couple other monkeys. They started their own game of hide and seek at the base of their tree, and as Marco and Jean moved through the exhibit, they could hear their peals of laughter echo through the humid air.

            “I think the next section is the underwater exhibit.” Marco murmured as they passed through another tunnel and down the hallway. Jean could see the faint blue glow from the reflection of water against the walls as they neared the underground portion of the aquarium, and soon enough, the tunnel opened up into the dolphin area. Behind floor to ceiling glass, dolphins zoomed past and circled around their exhibit. Jean could feel his stomach drop as he stared at the water glittering at the surface, seemingly far from where he stood.

The tingling was back.

He tried to ignore it as he watched Marco approach Sasha and Connie, who had their faces pressed against the glass in awe as the dolphins circled in front of them; letting out little calls that Sasha tried to mimic.

Now wasn’t the time. Jean backed against the far wall of the seating area and kept his eyes warily trained on the glass. _Of all times for this to happen, it had to be now._

            “M-Marco,” Jean lowered his voice when he noticed it: a small, hairline crack along the surface of the glass that wasn’t there a minute ago. “I think there are polar bears in the next exhibit.”

            “Polar bears?” Marco perked up from his place by the glass and quickly returned to Jean’s side. “They have polar bears here?”

            “Y-yeah, come on.” Jean spared the exhibit another glance. He wouldn’t cause any disasters today. That was a promise.

As they entered the arctic zone, Marco took a sharp intake of breath when he saw the big white bear curled up in the corner of its home. Jean could only laugh as he watched Marco move to press his hands against the glass and stoop down to look the bear in the eyes. It cracked an eye open and kept it on Marco for a while before it closed again.

A few feet over, Erwin and Levi watched the seals mingle behind the glass with unreadable expressions. It was sad, since the entire point of the trip was to boost morale among the group, but it was failing on the ones who initiated it.

Erwin had a stuffed animal clutched under one arm with his opposite hand pressed against the glass. As Jean moved closer to them, he could see the seal on the other side of the glass mimicking his gesture and the two stood stock still with their hands connected in an interrupted bond. Levi leaned against the wall watching them with his own stuffed turtle clutched in his arms as if his life depended on it.

Jean decided to go and see what was going on.

As he neared the couple, Levi loosened his grip on his stuffed animal and narrowed his eyes at it as if he wasn’t aware of his actions before. Erwin glanced at Jean’s arrival, but kept his hand where it was.

“Are you having fun?” Erwin asked with a small smile.

            “I was just about to ask you guys the same thing.” Jean stuffed his hands into his pockets and glanced over his shoulder. Marco was still trying to coax the polar bear out of its slumber, but it didn’t look like he had made any progress so far. Jean turned back and eyed the stuffed animal in Erwin’s arm. “You two look like you couldn’t be more miserable.”

Erwin frowned and dropped his hand from the glass, breaking the connection with the seal. It blinked back at him with sad eyes before shuffling back to its friends. Jean didn’t know why, but it made his heart ache.

            “Do we really?” Erwin sounded disappointed and brought the stuffed dolphin up to his face to look at it. “I bought these to make it look like we were actually having fun…”

            “You bought these to comfort yourself.” Levi said quietly. Surprisingly, his voice lacked an edge today, almost as if he were too tired to actually be mean.

“You two are hiding something.” Jean decided to be blunt about it. The two men looked at him but didn’t show any visible signs at his accusation.

After a few seconds, Erwin sighed and swept his eyes across the room for eavesdroppers.

            “We can’t speak about this now…it would defeat the whole purpose of this trip.” Erwin narrowed his blue eyes and looked at Levi. Levi clicked his tongue and turned away, making his way towards another exhibit.

            “I’m going back to the fish.” Was all he said as he walked away with his turtle dangling in his grasp.

“And the purpose of this trip was?” Jean inquired with a raised eyebrow. “Don’t tell me it was to put me in a building full of breakable things and cause problems.”

            “I think you know the answer to that.” Erwin hugged the dolphin to his chest and it almost made him look like a child. A very large child; not only in its resemblance to a child holding on to their teddy bear, but also in the small specks of vulnerability that showed in Erwin’s eyes. He was breaking; collapsing under a burden he’d held on to for too long, and he was scared to show it. Jean knew that feeling. He knew it all too well to miss it.

            “It must be pretty bad, huh?”

Erwin shook his head. He didn’t say the words, but Jean still understood the meaning. Not now, later. Sure enough, Reiner and Bert’s voices filled the small exhibit and mingled with Marco’s behind them, signaling the end of their conversation.

“Alright guys, it’s about time for us to head out.” Erwin didn’t raise his voice, it was unnecessary; as everyone knew that today probably wasn’t the best day to mess with him. Jean joined Marco’s side again in an attempt to shield him from Reiner’s bombardment of personal questions.

By the time they reached the exit, Reiner had managed to get half of Marco’s life story out of him and a brief glimpse of his high school graduation (in which he tripped on the stage when trying to grab his diploma during the graduation rehearsal, thankfully). Jean listened quietly as Marco spoke, trying to ignore the annoyance he was starting to feel towards his friends’ nosy behavior. This is what he had expected though, and Bert (bless his soul) finally pulled Reiner toward the aquarium windows where Levi was taking attendance of the group.

“Geez, I’m sorry about Reiner.” Jean scratched the back of his head and gave Marco an apologetic look. “He’s really interested in the lives of others for some reason.”

Marco chuckled. “That’s fine, I like telling stories about myself anyway.” He shrugged afterwards and smiled at Jean. “You made me think that your friends were awful, but that’s not the case at all! They’re great!”

            “Including Sasha and Connie?” Speak of the devils, there they were running through the lobby like a bunch of maniacs on a jailbreak. They stumbled over to Levi, out of breath, apologizing for being late and Levi just shook his head in disappointment. Erwin was still pacing the lobby with his phone pressed against his ear calling the missing groups.

            “Including Sasha and Connie.” Marco replied. Jean didn’t necessarily believe him, but he didn’t say anything further.

It took half an hour for Erwin to herd the entire group together again and get them all back on the bus. By then he was exhausted, Levi was in his snappy mood again, and Jean wanted nothing more than to fall asleep. The sun wasn’t far from setting at four o’clock, but to Jean, it felt like the day should have ended hours ago. The energy didn’t die on the bus either; Connie and Sasha conversed excitedly with Marco over the bus seat for the entire ride home while Reiner tried to explain to Jean why the octopus was his spirit animal. Jean tried to get through the ride with polite nods and fought the urge to roll his eyes whenever something ridiculous came out of his friend’s mouth.

 

 

“I forgot to ask, but are these all your coworkers?” Marco asked Jean after climbing off the bus. They stood in front of Jean’s apartment and waved as the bus sped off down the street.

Jean bit his lip. “Yeah.” Considering the role Levi and Erwin played, it could be interpreted as Mom and Dad, or the two fed-up bosses. One was easier to explain than the other.

            “Must be a fun job! Is it only part-time then?”

            “Uh, yeah until I find something a little more permanent.” Jean met Marco’s curious gaze and tried not to give anything away. Marco nodded at his response and didn’t inquire any more. Jean couldn’t help but feel grateful for Marco’s non-pressing tendency and started to relax, watching the rays of sunlight reflect off the passing cars on the street.

            “Thanks for coming today, you really saved my ass.” Jean looked up at him.

Marco grinned back. The sun illuminated the flecks of gold and orange in his eyes as they stood on the sidewalk. The wind blew between the buildings; tousling his hair and ruffling the collar of his jacket.

            “Thanks for inviting me! I had a lot of fun.”

Jean dropped his gaze and scuffed a foot on the sidewalk.

“I’m uh, glad you had fun.”

Marco shuffled his weight a little, as if he were considering something. Jean glanced up at Marco’s face, which was expressionless as his eyes wandered across Jean’s face. When he realized he’d been caught, he started ever so slightly and broke into a bright smile.

            “Wanna ride home?” Jean tried to ask without laughing at Marco’s reaction, but failed.

            “Oh, no! No, that’s okay. Sorry, I just zoned out for a minute.” Marco rubbed the back of his head as a small tint of pink touched the tips of his ears, misinterpreting Jean’s reaction. Jean started to feel the burning in his face and dropped his gaze again to furiously dislodge a clump of weeds from the crack in the sidewalk with his shoe.

“O-okay.”

They stood in silence for a few more seconds before Marco chuckled.

            “See you later Jean.” Marco gave him another sunny smile and waved as he turned to make his way down the street. Jean felt like he should say something else, something to him before he left, but he didn’t know what. So he stood on the sidewalk and watched Marco leave, wondering if he would look back.

Jean knew he was being irrational, but he felt like his happiness wouldn’t last long. His biggest fear was that everything would end now; the world would come smashing together and obliterate everything that ever mattered or came to exist.

Marco’s presence left a warm feeling pooling in his body, but his absence left him exposed to the frigid wind that blew through the city. He didn’t want things to end. In a permanent existence, temporariness was terrifying and incomprehensible no matter how long one was exposed to it. Jean watched Marco’s figure disappear into the distance before he stepped into the comfort of his apartment building; his mind swimming with too many thoughts at once.

 

But it didn’t end at the aquarium. Marco had, in fact, become the group favorite among Jean’s peers and he didn’t find Jean boring enough to leave behind. It didn’t end at the sidewalk where Marco said “See you later” and walked home on his own and it didn’t end in a burning fiery crash of what ifs and shouldn’t haves. It could be said that their friendship began when they met in the coffee shop on a too bright day in downtown Trost, or it could even be said that their friendship began on the corner where the rain covered everything with a cold, frozen feeling to it. Or maybe their friendship just came to be, like other things in the world, and happened to grow to the point where they finally noticed it. Instead of letting it die, they nurtured it into life, watching it grow into something more beautiful than what they expected it to be.

Marco would call Jean about the most trivial things, usually in the middle of the night when he couldn’t fall asleep. Questions like, why do we dream? Or, why do people want to achieve impossible things like flying or swimming to the bottom of the ocean?

Jean never knew the answers to his midnight rambling and they would laugh over their theories for hours until one of them finally got tired enough to go to sleep, and in these cases, it was usually Marco. Jean would keep his phone on his chest long after the conversation ended and just stare up into the dark, indulging in the feeling of being happy, and laughing over the dumbest things he’d ever heard from a college boy. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t rid the smile from his face and would fall asleep still grinning about the silly freckled boy that he had somehow made his friend.

Jean and Marco walked a lot together.

They would dedicate days to simply walking around town together, looking for new restaurants that they might have missed, or just to look around the parks on the other side of town, but mostly for conversation. Sometimes they would pick up from their late night discussions or start a new topic altogether. Jean didn’t have to wrack his brain for something to say when he spoke to Marco, the words just came spilling out, and most of them, if not all, were fueled by the bright and cheery look on Marco’s face as they walked through the city.

Jean was beginning to think that he had made Marco up from the beginning.

Surely someone like this couldn’t exist. That energy, the smiles, the voice, everything seemed too perfect to actually exist. Marco was an imaginary friend who had finally become too real for Jean to shake off, someone who clung to his conscious and lingered between real and what Jean perceived as real. But sure enough, Marco was real. Or, at least, that’s what he claimed when Jean poked him at random and demanded the truth. Marco never took him seriously and laughed at Jean’s accusations as if he were being ridiculous.

Jean knew that Marco was a caring and outright considerate person, but he never expected Marco to remember his “birthday”. He’d never told him the exact day, which meant that Marco had to go out of his way to find out.

“I made Connie tell me.” He had told Jean with a sheepish look and handed him the delicately wrapped package. Jean didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t remember the last time, if there had ever been a time, received a present for his birthday from someone. Marco wouldn’t allow him to open it in front of him, which Jean didn’t understand, so he waited to open it at home. He held the thickly bound global cookbook high above his head with another face-stretching grin plastered on his face. Hundreds of pages of different recipes from different cultures that Jean only knew bits and pieces about were now his to learn and hopefully master. Never in his existence had he wanted to cook as much as he did now. And he wanted Marco to be the one to try his dishes; call it a need to impress him with the gift he was given.

The weeks after the aquarium were filled with eye-watering laughter and blossoming friendship. It was the time when the weather was finally starting to warm up and allowed the small flower buds to emerge from their hiding places and prepare for their grand opening. When the sun began to shine a bit brighter around the city and painted it in false security. When Jean was starting to feel genuine happiness again and not guilt over a disaster he had caused or a life he had ruined. Of course, the longer time went on, the more anxious he got. However, his anxiety stemmed from more sources then one, some of them that Jean himself wasn’t aware of and others he simply failed to see.

Outside the city, a group was gathering.

They were no longer just stragglers united into a small unit, but a good dozen or so angry enough to tear down the city’s foundation. Headquarters became the target and foreign orders were sent into the city directed towards those who managed to slip in. No longer having names or titles, they ran by numbers. They were aware of their classification by the other gods. _Rogues_. They could handle the name for now because it wouldn’t last long.

Their actions weren’t going unnoticed; it sent small ripples of foreboding and fear to the other gods as if to warn them on what was coming. The anxious and worried feeling didn’t pass over Jean, but simply rested at the pit of his stomach as it was pushed down by an even stronger emotion. It clouded his perspective and drowned out his instincts against his will whenever he was around Marco. It left him blind to the actions happening both inside and outside of the city, and it was beginning to make his problems seem lesser. This was a feeling Jean wasn’t completely aware of, nor did he have a name for, but it kept him in orbit around Marco as if his life depended on it.

And if Jean could have seen it coming, he might have been able to dull the damage. He wasn’t prepared or expecting the chaos that started on the outskirts of the city and made its way to the center. The magnitude was unpredictable, but assumed. The damage was unreal, but suspected. Perhaps not by Jean, but it was by the ones who were watching. Jean would have known that misfortune didn’t necessarily have to start off as a large catastrophic event, but could begin with cracks along the surface of a delicate structure. Cracks that slowly grew until pieces began to break off and leave a massive, unfixable hole in its wake. He would have remembered that calamity could be small.

Jean didn’t begin to notice the signs until it was too late.

And it all began with a phone call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long to get out! As usual, it tends to be my fault…anyway though I started college like two weeks ago so I’ve been pretty busy! And I edited about half of it two weeks ago and edited the rest tonight, so it’s not like I’ve been pushing it back that much. Anyways I’m not sure how this story will work out now that we’re both in college, but we will still crank these chapters out, it just may be longer delays, who knows. As always, we love to see comments, so tell us what you think. Thanks for reading!  
> ^^^^^^  
> *sweats nervously*  
> *tries not to panic about being overwhelmed*  
> Nice seeing ya'll again, I want to thank you again for reading!  
> The next chapter...it's a doosie...(is that a word???)


	9. Intervention

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A strange talk with Erwin marks the beginning of a day full of grim discoveries for Jean. While Jean struggles to deal with what he has learned, Marco has troubles of his own.

Jean woke up in pain.

It wasn’t the small, gradual pain that would usually constitute as heartburn or the sharp pain of bad gas (Jean knew those pains all too well), nor was it ignorable. This pain was sudden and consuming—it roused him from his sleep and left him gasping in bed, clutching at anything to keep him rooted to reality. This pain was too real; it felt like fire swirling through the arteries around his heart, threatening to sear the organ itself.

Wheezing didn’t lessen the pain; nor did rolling to the center of the bed and shedding his sweat soaked shirt. The pain scattered his thoughts; relentless needles sparked through his system until it all began to ebb away. However, instead of a relieving numb sensation, the pain was replaced with a different ache—one that left him sobbing in his sheets.

_What was this?_

This feeling was strangely familiar. It took Jean a while to place it; to connect his thoughts into a cohesive idea and apply it to his situation. He was crying for the first time in decades. This was Loss.

Gods were linked in different ways, many of them by association. The longer time gods spent together, the stronger the bond they shared and thus a link was formed from one to another that spanned between emotion and physical pain. However, gods could only sense these feelings from another if they were marked with intense highs and lows‒nothing necessarily in-between unless they had the ability to first handedly manipulate emotions. Jean knew when Connie had taken a hit during a fight and when Sasha experienced her first heartbreak, he felt it as if it were his own pain; he was sure the others had as well. This overpowering feeling of grief was so sudden but Jean couldn’t understand where it was coming from. This wasn’t the pain of someone being injured or dying, but it was still debilitating and shocking; who the hell was it coming from?

Jean couldn’t find the courage or the strength to pick up his phone to try and find the origin. Instead he stared at the wall through his blurring vision hoping that the pain would go away quickly. It didn’t. It lasted for hours, enough time for the sun to rise and paint the city in a sad orange tint.

The only thing that gave Jean the motivation to finally reach for his phone was a text from Erwin. Erwin never sent texts. Jean barely remembered having him in his contacts. He was starting to get a bad feeling about what would happen next.

 

Thus Jean stood in Erwin’s office with a frown so deep-set into his face he was sure it was now a permanent trait. His earlier bout of grief was now dormant, but he could feel it brewing in the pit of his stomach and threatening to bubble back to the surface.

Erwin spoke to Levi in a low voice at his desk, which was nearly piled high with different documents and papers. Levi simply listened, nodding slightly every now and then, and his brows gradually furrowed until he wore his trademark scowl. He sat perched on the table behind Erwin, his feet embarrassingly far from reaching the floor for his age, and directed his glare to Jean with an audible sigh.

Erwin reached up to run his hands through his usual perfect hair.

“Good morning Jean.”

Jean rocked back on his heels and offered a smile he hoped wasn’t too forced. His morning was far from being good. “Morning.”

“I’m sorry I called you in all of a sudden, but I think there are some things we need to talk about.” Erwin glanced at Levi, who lowered himself to the floor with a slight shake of his head. They were speaking their own language; years of being together had allowed them to perfect it, and it drove Jean crazy.

Levi gave Jean a curious look as he passed him, stepping out of the office without a word. The door closed behind him with a small click.

“’Some things’ huh?” Jean couldn’t help the bitter laugh that came out of him. The world could be on fire and Erwin wouldn’t tell anyone until the last minute.

“Take a seat.” Erwin gestured to the chairs in front of his desk and Jean obeyed. He dropped into a chair and cast his eyes around the room. He was rarely in Erwin’s office, it was a room dedicated to things of only vital importance; and Jean was never usually a part of that. Erwin’s office also felt like a sacred place, even though the only things visible on his desk were two pictures. A black and white photo of a woman with short dark hair and a photo of two girls‒who looked identical‒hugging each other and smiling at the camera. Jean’s eyes would always land on the pictures, but he had never found the courage to ask Erwin who these women were and why they were never facing him.

“I suppose I should start near the beginning.” Erwin studied Jean’s expression warily before he cleared his throat. “I’m sure you’ve heard the rumor behind the gods running around causing havoc, the ones stripped of their titles.”

“Rogues.” Jean nodded.

“Right. Well as we suspected, the gods aren’t acting on their own. We assumed they were working in groups…however we never knew what their goal was.”

“Did you find out what their goal is?”

Erwin leaned back in his chair. “Yes…their plan was more intrinsic than I predicted it would be.  It turns out that their goal is to overthrow the power of the Council.”

Jean slowly leaned forward in his seat. “Overthrow as in start a war with the higher gods?”

“The quickest way to do so would be storming through Headquarters.” Erwin’s voice dropped to almost a whisper, “And we can’t allow that.”

“How many Rogues are we talking about Erwin?”

Erwin hesitated. The amount of time it took him to respond made Jean nauseous.

“A hundred. Possibly more.”

No wonder Erwin never said anything. It was a death sentence, not an elaborate plan like usual or a simple meeting. It wasn’t easy telling someone that they were going to die.

“So…” Jean tried to put together Erwin’s words using his own intuition. He knew where this was going. “Council wants us to run defense until the Guard comes to protect them, am I right?”

“The Guard’s purpose is to defend the Council, but they’ve been out on duty for a long time…but yes you’re correct. However,” Erwin’s gaze turned intense as he stared Jean down, “I hope you know I will never lead my comrades into a one-sided fight.”

“You think we stand a chance? We’re minor gods Erwin, we have nothing against them!”

“A god is still a god Jean. I don’t believe the people I’ve been in charge of are any less capable than I am.” He narrowed his eyes, but Jean could see the one emotion he didn’t want to see: _doubt_.

“Well, I guess I can see why you waited to break the news.” Jean said with a shrug. “But why are you just telling me?”

“That is a good question.” Erwin dropped his gaze to a stack of papers in front of him. “You’ve always been different from the others, I suppose. You have a lot of potential that I think you push down.”

Jean fought the urge to roll his eyes. His potential rested in causing disasters, sorry if he didn’t want to ruin lives all the time anymore.

“Your potential doesn’t just reside in causing catastrophes Jean.” Erwin told him as if he could read his mind. “Calamity is a very important factor and a critical role in this world.”

“Yeah well…” Jean scratched the back of his neck, already seeking a way to escape. He didn’t know where Erwin was going with this, but it was starting to feel like he was in trouble. Jean knew he couldn’t go on forever doing nothing; living a cozy life off the grid was just asking for trouble. “I don’t like being the one who has to do it.”

“No one wants to.” Erwin shifted through some papers as he spoke, pushing some to the side and stacking others in another pile. He fell silent and continued to organize his desk until he finally had a small amount of empty space in front of him.

The amount of work piled on Erwin’s desk made Jean exhausted just from looking at it. He wondered if Erwin had even read half the things that were stuffed into the files and books on his desk, or if he ever would. Erwin was being worked harder than anyone Jean had ever known. The stress was clear on his boss’s face today; if wrinkles and gray hair were possible, Erwin would have a lot of it, but instead his young and stubble-less face was set into a mask that was so close to falling off it left Jean more unsettled than before he came in. He was suddenly becoming aware of the fact that Erwin was just like any other man. He could get overwhelmed, tired, angry, and scared, but his job made it so he could never show it without upsetting the others. It was as if Erwin wasn’t allowed to feel or display his emotions in public, but that was impossible‒Erwin wasn’t a machine. Gods had emotions, but they weren’t supposed to; Emotions were human characteristics that were supposed to belong to humans alone.

“Things are going to get ugly these next couple of weeks.” Erwin broke the silence and offered Jean a sympathetic look. “I want to tell you that everything will be okay, but…”

“Yeah I know. It’s not your fault, you know that right?”

Erwin looked up in surprise. He tried to keep a straight face, but Jean watched guilt pour over his features until Erwin couldn’t look him in the eye any longer.

“You all are my responsibility and I can’t even guarantee your safety anymore. That is my fault.”

“You do too much dude, if you can’t stop something from happening than it can’t be stopped. I know the others will understand, but you can’t blame yourself.” Jean told him. “I’m sure Levi told you the same thing.”

Jean caught a small smile touch Erwin’s face.

“You’re right, he did. You copied him word for word.”

Jean laughed. He never thought he’d live to see the day where Erwin cracked a joke, and he was glad to see it. It was nice seeing Erwin relax a little. His features smoothed out as he laughed, and Jean could imagine the load on Erwin’s shoulders getting a little lighter, even if it was only for a moment. That was what he needed; Jean didn’t know if Levi had ever made Erwin laugh, or if anyone ever had, but it sounded like he hadn’t laughed for a long time.

“I also wanted to ask you about your friend.” Erwin turned in his chair and folded his hands in his lap.

Jean cocked his head to the side. “Marco?”

“How is he?”

“Good I guess, I actually haven’t heard from him recently…” Jean furrowed his brow at the mention of Marco. They normally spoke or texted at least once a day, and it was a little unusual how silent Marco had been.

“I’m glad that you’re socializing with humans again. I was afraid that you would shut them out forever.” Erwin’s voice took a lighter tone and he smiled at Jean. “Marco seems like a very nice person.”

“Did he pass your personal evaluation?”

“I didn’t do one.” Erwin shrugged. “I wanted to be surprised.”

“There won’t be much of a surprise. The guy is as good as we’ll see in this city.”

Erwin raised an eyebrow. “You sound pretty confident about him.”

“The guy is too nice; I’m scared it’s going to get him in trouble.” Jean didn’t want to imagine how Trost took advantage of the people who weren’t careful enough. Trouble was lurking around every corner, and not much good could come from pulling strangers out of the street.

“I think you might be underestimating him.” Erwin tried to sound mysterious. “Everyone has their secrets.”

“Are you trying to say he’s secretly a college kid by day and an axe murderer by night?”

Erwin shrugged. “Only Marco and I would know.”

Jean rolled his eyes and slumped in his chair. His eyes landed once again on the pictures in front of him and a surge of confidence allowed him to finally bring it up.

“Can I ask you who the people in these pictures are?”

“The woman to your right is my wife Nadia.” Erwin’s eyes hardened when he said her name; shutting off the swirl of emotions before Jean could catch them. “The picture to your left are my daughters.”

Jean’s eyes flew open in surprise. “You have a wife and kids?”

“Had.” The word froze in the air and hung heavy above them. It was a horrible word, and it was one gods used a lot but could never get used to.

Jean looked back at the old pictures and frowned. “So they were human?”

“Isn’t it strange how something that means so much can be gone so quickly?” Erwin asked instead of answering; his eyes trained on the back of the picture frame.

“Yeah.” Jean stifled the rest of his questions with a sigh. The door to Erwin’s office opened and Mike stepped in, interrupting Erwin from his next sentence. He sniffed the air before he met Erwin’s gaze with an amused smile.

“Is it that time already?” Erwin sighed and got to his feet. As if on cue, the door opened again and Levi stepped in. His gray eyes went straight to Jean instead of Erwin, his face still set in a scowl.

“Come with me kid.” Levi told him. He didn’t wait for an answer; he stepped back out of the office without another word and Erwin nodded at Jean to follow.

_What did I do?_

Jean stood up and tried to swallow his fear. He tried to speed-walk past Mike, but the man nonetheless ducked down to take a whiff at Jean’s hair as he tried to get out the door. He didn’t know what kind of harassment it was, but Mike really needed to stop smelling people‒Jean in particular.

Levi stood leaning against the wall in the hallway, his eyes trained on something Jean couldn’t see. He looked up when Jean approached him, his eyes running up and down Jean as he thought of something to say.

“You’re spending the day with me.” Levi said in a flat voice. There wasn’t an option to say no to Levi and Jean knew it. He couldn’t even open his mouth to ask why; Levi led the way down the hall with Jean right on his heels.

As they walked in silence, Jean realized that he had never been down this particular hallway before. It led to a set of stairs that only went down into another hallway. That hallway led to another. And then another. Eventually, the last hallway ended with a large red door which Levi unlocked with his set of keys. He pushed it open and checked to make sure Jean was still following him; he didn’t look particularly happy to see Jean standing behind him expectantly.

Jean followed Levi through the door and into a narrow tunnel.

“You’re in pretty deep, aren’t you?” Levi threw a quizzical look over his shoulder to Jean as they made their way towards another door.

Jean cast his eyes down and shuffled along. He had a feeling what Levi‒and Erwin for that matter‒were getting at. He didn’t want to say it, because saying would imply that he accepted it; the fact that he was falling into the same hole he’d dug years ago.

“You know what I have to say to you, right?”

Jean nodded, the words forming in his head in order for him to mimic Levi’s voice perfectly.

“Never try to become human.”

“It’s the most important rule of all,” Levi dipped his hand into his pocket to reveal another set of keys, “but it’s also the most bullshit statement ever created.”

Jean stumbled at Levi’s words; falling even farther behind. Levi came to a stop as he unlocked another door and pushed it open.

“Bullshit?”

“We’re pushed into this world and told to blend in. To learn the habits and speech of the people who inhabit it in order to understand them.” Levi spun the keys around his finger before slipping them back into his pocket. “It’s impossible to completely understand someone, let alone the entire human race.”

Jean furrowed his brows as they walked down an even narrower tunnel, lined with bricks that appeared wet in the light. Each step he took gave him a chilling sense of déjà vu, even though he knew he had never been here before.

“Why…is it impossible to understand someone?” Jean found himself asking.

“How can you understand someone who doesn’t even understand themselves?”  The response was simple, but it left Jean somewhat confused. It appeared the world was nothing but a mystery; everyone was wandering trying to find themselves and what they were meant to be. It was sad, not knowing who you were; Jean could easily say he was the god of Calamity, but other than that, he didn’t have much else to guide himself with.

But Levi was still going; stuck on his own rant, brought on by who knew what. “They tell us not to become human, but it’s like they want us to be as human as possible, what kind of shit is that? I’m not condoning anything here; in fact, I’m supposed to be warning you.”

“Warning me from what exactly?”

“Your friend.” Levi turned the full intensity of his gaze onto Jean. “And your thoughts.”

Jean bit his lip. He supposed it wasn’t exactly a secret, he could even admit that his behavior was predictable. By spending time with Marco, Jean was beginning to feel as if he had a place in the world, as if he were human. And it had happened so many times before to him, yet here he was making the same mistake.

By having the gods exist amongst humans without changing into them, there was a vague idea of the boundaries gods were meant to keep. “They” being the gods who gave the orders, seemed unaware of how impossible that task was. They rarely set foot among humans, they never had to associate with them, nor blend into their society. Yet they were the ones who controlled everything.

The tunnel curved, leading to a new set of doors. Bright fluorescent lights shone through the pristine glass doors, nearly blinding Jean as they got closer.

“Levi, you’re talking a lot today, aren’t you?” Jean mused.

Levi grimaced. “Well, considering we could all die soon, I figured I might as well try to seem a little less like an asshole.”

Levi pulled open the final set of doors and paused.

“Can we really call it dying if we’ve never lived?” He seemed to ask the question to himself, but it hit Jean like a blow to the chest. It was the same question that had been circling his mind for as long as he could remember.

Could they call this…living?

“You’re not an asshole.” Jean finally said, hesitating by Levi as he waited for him to walk through. Levi seemed lost in thought; his eyes were focused on the floor with such an intense concentration that Jean wondered if he was boring holes into the ground.

He suddenly cocked his head to look Jean in the eye; the ghost of a smile on his face. “Yeah whatever. You might revoke that statement after today.”

“What exactly are we doing here?” Jean and Levi walked through the doors, which led to a bright lobby with various colorful posters decorating the otherwise monochromatic room.

White walls, black chairs, black couches, and not a window in sight. Jean figured maybe it was because they were underground, but he never remembered going down.

“You’ll see.” Levi replied as he approached the front desk. “Where’s Petra?” He asked the man behind the computer. The guy glanced up, his eyes peeled from the screen to look at Levi with a friendly expression.

“She was just looking for you actually…not sure where she went though. Maybe she’s running tickets?”

Jean squinted to read the name tag on the guy’s chest. In black bold letters read _Gunther_.

“Levi!” A breathless girl ran around the corner, her short orange hair windblown. “Why didn’t you answer my calls?!”

“Sorry, I didn’t know you called.” He strolled up to the girl and took the clipboard from her. “Is something wrong?”

“There’s a man in one of the rooms making a scene and Aurlow is trying to control him, but…”  
“An Adamant?”

“Yes. He’s panicking because he can’t remember anything.” The girl nodded at Levi, and then her gaze slid to Jean. She eyed him curiously as she listened to Levi’s response.

“Well Jean, looks like today’s your lucky day.” Levi sighed, drumming his fingers on the clipboard with a tired expression. His eyes widened briefly as his unintentional joke dawned on him. “Well you know what I mean.”

Jean couldn’t stop himself from rolling his eyes. Luckily, Levi turned away before he could see the action. He didn’t know what Levi was pulling him into, but it didn’t look all too pleasant.

As he followed Levi and the woman he learned to be Petra, Jean focused his attention on the posters mounted on the wall.

_Death is the only way to a new beginning._

Jean felt his footsteps slow as he lingered to study the poster. It was just the phrase in fancy cursive letters with stars filling the dark blue paper. Was that supposed to be a reassurance?

Jean picked up the pace when he saw Levi and Petra disappear around another corner; he ended up walking into another poster.

_Are you content with the person you became?_

It was finally starting to dawn on Jean. He knew where he was, definitely somewhere he never dreamed of being, but this was‒

A sharp wail cut through the room they walked into. A woman clutched a bundle protectively against her chest, tears spilling down her face as she yelled at a man in uniform.

“Please let me stay with my child!” She shouted. It wasn’t the woman that made Jean freeze in his tracks. The atmosphere in the room was so heavy! People sat in chairs with downtrodden expressions and some were crying. A man nearby sat hunched over a sheet of paper, which was wrinkled under his tight grip as he shook, tears dripping onto the page.

“I’m afraid you two have to go in separate rooms for analyzing, but you will be brought back to him after‒”

“No you aren’t taking my child! He doesn’t know anything!”

“We still have to‒”  
Petra jogged over to help the man; she put a light hand on the woman’s shoulder and gave her a warm smile. Her words were soft and gentle, and Jean could see the tension slowly leave the woman’s body.

“I just don’t understand where I am or why you have to separate me from my child.” The woman sobbed as she nuzzled her baby. Petra held a sad look in her eyes as she cast Jean a wary look. Her words were spoken softly, but it gave Jean chills.

“Ma’am…your child was never born.”

Jean watched the woman’s face contort in confusion before she cast a quick look down at her child. He was nonetheless crying and stirring in her grasp, but a small hand peeked out of the blanket and it was deathly pale.

“Time to go Jean.” Levi nudged him and walked off down a hallway towards another door. Jean slowly walked away, unable to take his eyes off the mother and child until they were blocked from his view. He didn’t know what to think, or what to feel; Levi watched the whole thing with a subdued expression as if it didn’t matter to him. Was he used to this sort of thing?

_He has to be_.

Levi held open the door for Jean and they stepped inside a small room. A large window spanned the wall, allowing them to see into another room where a man sat at a table with his head in his hands.

“You stay here and watch. I’ll be back.” Levi stepped back out of the room. A few moments later, Jean watched him walk into the other room, where he stood on the opposite side of the table from the man.

“Do you know where you are?” Levi asked him.

“No. I don’t know anything.” The man responded flatly. “Nobody told me anything.”

Levi scowled as he looked at the clipboard in his hands.

“You don’t even know your name?”

“I told you I don’t know anything.”

Jean winced as he watched their conversation. He couldn’t ever imagine talking back to Levi like that; he’d seen what happened to Eren when he snapped at Levi the first time.

But Levi was being patient. His eyes roamed the paper quickly before he turned to look at the man again.

“Your name is Jeffrey. You’re forty-three years old.” Levi told him.

“Oh?” Jeffrey laughed. “And how the hell do you know that?”

“You’re suffering from a temporary amnesia, which is common in certain traumatic incidents such as your own.”

“Traumatic incident? If that’s the case, shouldn’t I be in a hospital?”

“No.” Levi flipped a page on his clipboard and began to write out something with his pen. “Because you’re dead.”

“Excuse me?” Jeffrey gave Levi a deadly look. “Look little guy, you better stop fuckin’ around with me‒”

“I’m not fucking around.” Levi’s eyes snapped up. “Thursday, May eleventh at four-thirty PM your vehicle collided with a median, which caused you to crash into another car and flip over three times at eighty miles per hour.”

Jeffrey’s eyes widened in horror.

“The car you crashed into was carrying a woman, her husband, and their unborn child. Only the father survived, the mother is in the lobby giving our guards a rough time.” Levi’s eyes hardened to deadly steel. “It’s a shame you ruined their lives because you thought drunk driving was a good idea on the highway.”

Jeffrey fell silent, his eyes on the table as he processed what Levi said.

“I-I was driving…” Jeffrey whispered to himself. His hands began to knot through his short blonde hair. “Y-you’re right, I’m starting to remember…but how…how do you know all of this?”

“I told you, because you’re dead. I’m making sure you go where you need to go.”

“Where am I going? Hell?”

Levi smirked. “Such a place doesn’t exist.”

“Then where am I going?”

Levi studied him for a few seconds before he scribbled something else on the paper and tore off the sheet.

“Go to the ticket vendor at the station and give this to them.” Levi handed the paper to Jeffrey.

Jeffrey stared at it in confusion.

“What does it say? This isn’t even in English!”

“Just do as I say.” Levi’s voice came out as a warning. “It’ll get you your ticket and you’ll be on your way.”

After a few seconds of deliberation, Jeffrey finally stood up and shuffled past Levi and out the door. Levi followed after him, leaving the room empty and quiet.

Jean backed against the wall and let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. This was where humans came after they died…for what? To be organized? They had to sit down and evaluate what happened to them before they could move on?

The door creaked open and Levi gestured for Jean to follow him.

Levi led him down another hallway, this one leading to a large underground train station. One train went into a dark tunnel labelled “P” and the other tunnel led to “R”. A train was just boarding as they entered; a long line of sad people clutching their tickets as they progressed slowly, one man stamping each ticket as he let them through.

The platform wasn’t crowded, only a few groups mingled as they waited for their train to arrive, but the sight still broke Jean’s heart.

Children chased each other up and down the platforms, some mingled by the lobby where they played games with one another, their laughter filling the air. The adults watched them sadly; children were too young to comprehend what death meant, but the adults knew where they were going. These children barely got a chance at life, and here they were, not knowing that it was over.

A couple kissed as they parted ways, one going on the boarding train as the other stayed.

“All of these people are dead?” Jean’s question barely came out as a whisper, but Levi still heard him.

“A lot of people die Jean. Every day, every minute, and every second.”

“And you’re…used to it?”

“It’s my job.” Levi remarked. “I have to be.”

Jean remained silent as he watched the line of people slowly diminish until everyone had boarded the train. The last one to board was a familiar face; Jeffrey had his ticket stamped and cast them a sad look before stepping inside. The train started with a puff of smoke, and children began to wave to the people being carried away. The train disappeared into the tunnel marked “P” with its whistle slowly fading away.

“Where is that train going?”

Levi glanced at his clipboard and then at the clock on the wall. “The Pit. It’s essentially what humans consider Hell, but it’s exactly as we say it is.”

“Just a giant pit?”

“Souls are discarded into a black hole and never seen again. It’s a punishment, as they can’t ever leave or reach the surface.”

A train on the opposite side arrived and the children began to cheer; they flocked back to their parents and friends as they all began to line up.

“And that train,” Levi gestured at them with his chin, “is towards Rebirth, where their souls are recycled and born into new bodies.”

Jean’s expression made Levi snort.

“Jean, the more you deny death exists, the harder it’ll hit you when it happens.”

“There has to be a reason why you dragged me down here.”

“You’re right. It was to give you this life lesson. Death strikes humans more powerfully than it does to us because they have to experience it. We can’t connect or empathize. I’m saying it’s okay to have human friends, in fact you should have human friends, you just have to accept the fact that they have to die.”

Jean watched the children board the train.

“It isn’t fair Levi, they’re so young.”

“Death isn’t fair.” Levi took a step towards the ticket booth before he looked back at Jean. “Neither is life, but we wouldn’t know, would we?”

Jean shut his mouth with a click, suffocating his response. A naïve, dangerous thought had planted itself into his head.

_What if we could?_

“You’re free to leave, by the way. I have a lot of work to do and I showed you everything I needed to.”

Jean looked around, spinning in circles as he realized he had no idea how they got here. He caught sight of Petra conversing with one of the ticket distributors near the platform. As if she were called, her head whipped around to look at them before jogging to Levi’s side with a smile that reminded Jean of an excited puppy.

Levi sighed before giving her a smirk. “Petra will you show this idiot out?”

Petra gave Jean a blinding smile as she stepped forward to grab his arm.

“Yes sir!”

 

 

 

It felt like a miracle when Jean finally got above ground again. He actually welcomed the polluted stench the Trost air carried as he inhaled it all into his lungs. He stood in front of one of the subway stations, oddly enough, still unsure how Petra had got him there. He wasn’t even sure how long he’d been gone; the sun was still high in the sky and reflected off the buildings. Jean had heard a rumor that time doesn’t pass the same way down where Death is concerned, but he didn’t know if he believed it.

As he walked through the city, his phone signal returned, and he was bombarded by missed call messages; all of them from Marco. He didn’t leave any text messages, but he left a single voice message. Jean quickly called his voicemail, his body filling with dread.

_H-Hey Jean it’s me…I uh, I really want to talk to you‒I have to talk to you, I just‒I mean I don’t…when you get this can you call me?_

Jean paused in the middle of the sidewalk. Marco sounded panicked. When had he called? An hour ago? Jean prayed it wasn’t too late as he speed walked in the direction of his apartment; Marco’s number was already dialing and he waited for him to answer the phone.

_Please tell me I’m not too late_

What was happening with him? What was wrong? A million things ran through Jean’s mind as he wove his way through the sidewalk traffic with his phone pressed tight against his ear, his other hand zipping up the collar to his jacket.

The phone rang for an excruciating amount of time before Marco picked up.

_“Jean?”_

“Marco, what’s wrong?” Jean whipped around a corner so fast he almost knocked down a woman tottering on high heels.

_“Uh…It’s‒well, a lot. Are you busy? Can we meet up?”_

“No I’m not busy, where do you want to meet?”

_“Is the café by your place alright?”_

“Yeah I’ll be there in ten.”

Jean picked up the pace; his own sense of panic was beginning to kick in. Marco didn’t sound like Marco. His voice was quiet and shaken; something had happened.

“Shit.” Jean hissed as he broke into a sprint.

 

 

 

By the time Jean reached the café, Marco had already claimed them a spot off in the corner near the window with his cup of tea wrapped in his hands. His attention was directed outside, on what Jean wasn’t sure, but he was so focused that he barely noticed Jean sit down across from him.

“Marco.” He jumped at the sound of his name and his eyes flew to Jean.

Jean took in every detail at once: the ruffled hair, the bags under his eyes, and the shadow of stubble along Marco’s jaw that he’d never seen before.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Marco breathed softly. “I’m losing my mind over here.”

“What happened?”

Marco looked down into his tea cup and chewed on his lip. When he responded his voice was shaky.

“F-family stuff, it’s…complicated. I can’t really talk about it….” Marco avoided Jean’s gaze and scratched absentmindedly at the table. “…yet. I’m sorry; I just wanted to be around you…”

“For a distraction.” Jean clarified. Marco winced as if he’d pinched him. “N-no, that’s okay! I understand, I’m not offended or anything. You just got me really worried.”

“Sorry.” Marco said quietly. Jean could see it in his eyes, even though he was trying to avoid eye contact. Talking about it would make it a reality. Of course denial would only make it worse, but sometimes that was what needed to be done.

The two sat together for a long time. It was a mixture of silence and small-talk, but all the while Jean could see that something was tearing Marco apart. His own ball of grief from this morning was stirring again, threatening to resurface and push Jean back under the waves that he was trying to stay afloat on. Marco needed him right now; his emotions would not get in the way of that.

They talked until the sun went down and the customers began to wither away as closing time approached. As Jean stood up to leave, the concept of going home looked like torture on Marco’s face.

“You’re more than welcome to stay at my place you know.” Jean told Marco as he scratched the back of his head.

Marco looked up, confusion coloring his features.

“I-if you don’t want to go home.” Jean added.

Marco let out a bitter laugh. “Was I making such a scared face?”

“Marco I mean it. I want you to come over.” Jean swallowed thickly as he said the words. He couldn’t remember the last time he had invited someone over. And the last thing he wanted was Marco going home to a place that was hurting him.

Marco met Jean’s eyes and smiled. It wasn’t as bright as his usual ones, but it was the most genuine gesture Jean had gotten out of him all day, and that meant something.

“Thanks. If you want me to…then I will.” He said shyly; a light shade of pink touching his cheeks. Jean could only smile back as he led the way back to his apartment. The sense of dread hadn’t left yet, nor had his memories of the morning, and as he unlocked the door to his apartment to let Marco inside, it felt like his apartment radiated sadness.

Even when he turned on the lights; they burned with a dim glow that lit up the living room and hallways. The darkness outside seemed to press against the windows as if it wanted to be let in.

Marco walked into the living room, his eyes roaming across the room in awe.

“This is really spacious.” He remarked. “You live here on your own?”

“Yeah.” Jean was starting to feel a little self-conscious about his apartment. He kicked an empty can of soda under the couch before Marco could see it, and then he remembered that his bed was a mess. He quickly turned on the TV and handed the remote to Marco. “You sit here and watch TV and I’m going to clean my room.”

“You don’t have to‒” Marco’s voice fell on deaf ears as Jean dashed out of the room.

As quickly as he could, Jean tore all of the sheets off his bed and proceeded to put them back on in the correct order. He wanted it to actually look like a bed and not like some animal’s nest. He tossed the pillows on top and began to pick up the dirty laundry that had once again begun to cover his floor as a makeshift carpet; tossing things into the hamper from long distances appeared to be his forte.

When he returned to the living room, Marco had his eyes trained on the screen, but Jean could tell he wasn’t seeing it.

“Well I’m gonna sleep on the couch tonight, and you’re sleeping in my bed.” Jean announced.

“No Jean, the couch is fine for me‒”

“You’re sleeping in my bed. I just made it all nice for you, you better sleep in it.” Jean raised an eyebrow to see if Marco would challenge him.

Marco just let out a sigh and gave him a small smile.

“Understood…”

Jean narrowed his eyes at him for a few seconds before blowing out a heavy breath. He dropped onto the couch next to Marco and sunk back in the cushions, wishing he could just be swallowed up. He focused his eyes on the TV, despite being aware of Marco boring holes into the side of his face.

“You know, this is the episode where the guy has to cook everything with plastic utensils and a blowtorch.” Jean told Marco matter-of-factly and gestured at the TV. “It’s a really important episode, so you should watch it.”

Marco dragged his eyes from Jean to the TV with a loud sigh and sank back on the couch, mimicking Jean’s posture.

“Unless you want to talk…” Jean hummed, his eyes still on the screen.

“No, I’ll watch.” Marco murmured. He burrowed up in his forest green hoodie, tucking his chin underneath the collar and thus hiding his expression from Jean for the rest of the show.

Jean lost track of how many episodes they watched, but once he looked over to see Marco sleeping, he turned off the TV and stretched. The apartment was dark; the only light they had on was from the living room and hallway, but everything else was as black as the world outside.

Jean slid out of his seat as quietly as he could to stand and squint at the clock on the wall. It was nearly one o’clock in the morning and he wasn’t tired at all.

His eyes fell on Marco. He was long-gone; Jean wondered when he had fallen asleep and how long it had taken him to notice. Marco looked peaceful in his sleep, as most people did, but it didn’t stop the stirring of Jean’s heart.  He wanted to know what had happened to him. An eclipse had covered his personal sun, and now Jean was beginning to wonder if his luck had finally run out.

Jean navigated across the room, avoiding every creaky board on his way to the fire escape window. He ducked out of it and onto the landing to lean on the railing and stare at the sleeping city.

Well, some of it was asleep.

The various apartments all had their lights out, but cars nonetheless zoomed down the streets and the street lamps still lit the way for the occasional person taking their suspicious night stroll. The moon was barely there, a small thin crescent in the black sky that was, as expected, starless.

The world was still moving, yet Jean was beginning to feel like his was stopping. Things didn’t feel right anymore, and that was due to all the chaos that was happening. Maybe it was because gods were continuing to kill other gods, or because Marco was in trouble, or maybe it was because Jean was hurting again.

Jean tightened his grip on the rail, focusing on the feeling of the metal bending to his will underneath his palms, squeaking as it tried to resist the pressure that was forced on it. The weather wasn’t as cold as it was the last time Jean had stood out here; the wind that blew through the city didn’t bother him anymore either, but as Jean stood outside (for an insane amount of time) he began to realize that the sunrise didn’t appeal to him that much anymore. It used to be his thing; the one slightly romantic event he could ever tell someone about, and yet here he was watching it rise with the same scowl on his face as he normally did with anything else. The sun only indicated a new day, and right now, Jean’s days felt limited.

The sound of rattling made Jean whip around in alarm, only to see Marco standing beside him with his hands buried deep in his pockets.

“Can’t sleep?” Marco’s question was clearly amused. He rocked back on his heels and trained his eyes on the rising sun.

“Yup. As usual.” Jean shrugged nonchalantly, but his eyes stayed on Marco.

“Do you normally come out here?” Marco dropped his gaze to the landing they stood on. He was probably thinking about how unsteady it looked; Jean knew the fire escape would hold them, even if it shook and trembled under their weight. To anyone else, it probably looked like a death trap.

“Yeah I…” Jean paused to let out a small laugh. “I come out here to watch the sun rise or just to see the cars drive up and down the street when I can’t sleep.”

“You have a pretty nice view.” Marco remarked with an impressed look.

Jean nodded. It was only because of the four lanes of road and a conveniently placed park that allowed the small glimpse at the sun they had. Everything else was obscured by brick and glass.

“Can’t be out here all the time though.” Jean said lightly. “Pretty sure the alley below us is a drug den. There’s probably a lot of shit going on right now.”

Marco’s eyes flitted down past the railing to see into the dark alley that ran along the side of the apartment. He frowned, but he didn’t seem to be as concerned as Jean expected him to be. Jean was hoping for at least a laugh.

“I wouldn’t doubt it.” Marco bent over to rest his elbows on the railing next to Jean. His eyes held a faraway look to them, and Jean wondered if he’d ever be able to reach them again. Marco was looking beyond the sunrise, if there was anything beyond that, but even if there was…what was he looking for?

They stood in silence for a long time. Jean stopped wracking his brain for conversation starters and focused his frustration at the sun. Right now, he was powerless. There was nothing Jean could do, and as a god, that was a pretty pathetic thing.

Marco yawned. It was the first sound either of them had made in a while, bringing them both crashing down to reality.

“You should get some sleep.” Jean told Marco with a small smile. “Take my bed.”

“What about you?”

“I’m gonna sleep on the couch. I’ll come in in a second.” Jean’s lie felt bitter on his tongue. He didn’t feel like he was going to sleep anytime soon.

But Marco ducked back into the apartment and disappeared into Jean’s bedroom, leaving Jean alone again with his thoughts.

He couldn’t stay out there for much longer; he too slipped back through the window and dropped onto his couch with a tired yawn. He burrowed in the cushions and closed his eyes in an attempt to stop the headache that pounded behind them.

Jean wasn’t aware that he’d fallen asleep until after he woke up with a start, staring into the sunlight filtering through the dusty windows in a confused daze. He had slept a long time; the clock read three in the afternoon, and the apartment was dead quiet.

Jean padded into his bedroom to see his bed both empty and perfectly made. Marco was nowhere to be seen. The only thing left behind was a square of yellow paper with a note scribbled on it in beautiful handwriting:

_Thank you for being here for me. I know I’m leaving you in the dark for now, but please don’t worry about me. I’ll call you later._

Jean reread the note a dozen times before he crushed it in his grip. Leaving him in the dark was right, but don’t worry about him? How the hell could he not worry about him?

Marco was now another thing to add to Jean’s list of troubles. And his list was long, almost never-ending, and full of things Jean wished he could forget. Not worrying wasn’t an option. Stumbling in the dark wasn’t preferred either, but Jean knew he didn’t have much of a choice. He had to believe that Marco would tell him when he was ready.

He could only hold on to the small amount of hope Marco left behind for him that day.

_I’ll call you later._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late release of this chapter! It’s been written for a few months now and I just got to editing it…anyway I hope you all stick around for the next chapters; things are just getting exciting. The chapters should hopefully be released more frequently, because I’ll be editing a loooot this month, both for Wings and our other stories, so feel free to look those up as well. As always, thank you for reading and feel free to leave comments!  
> ^^^  
> Hey y'all! Long time no see!  
> Hang in there with me, this marks the beginning of the craziness that I call a fanfiction! I added the necessary components to finally get the ball rolling! *wipes sweat from brow*  
> By the way, if none of you have seen Death Parade, you definitely should! It was the inspiration for how the underworld is staged and it's also a wonderful show to watch! Thanks again for reading!


	10. Tale of Erwin: Fragility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Erwin reflects on the current state of the world and recalls the ghosts of his past.

“It takes a long time to understand how the world works.”

Erwin circled the line in red pen until it stood out among the others. It took Erwin over four hundred years to get this far, and if anyone were to ask him where he stood, he’d tell them that he wasn’t far enough. Life wasn’t a mathematical equation that could be solved. It wasn’t a map that could be read. It wasn’t an action that could be predicted. There were no patterns, no logic, and no purpose. It didn’t make sense, but for some reason it didn’t have to.

Erwin wrote notes in an attempt to learn from it.

He flipped through his thick-bound journal; it was a book that had seen better days, but it was still in surprisingly good shape. The black leather cracked into its own patterns, telling its age similar to wrinkles on one’s face. Over the years, he’d written the things that he needed to remember, let alone understand. Perhaps if he could grasp that much, he’d be able to do his job a little better. Or so he told himself.

His first fact stared at him from the page, written in a bold and swift hand:

_Humans forgave_.

A little too easily, in Erwin’s opinion. He’d seen it all in the courtroom. There were times when someone did an action of incredible consequence; whether it was the murder of another human or a petty theft, when there were heartfelt apologies there was usually forgiveness. Humans said sorry on almost a daily basis, and then they were forgiven. Gods were not like that. They remembered. They held grudges. No amount of time could put aside the wrong that was done unless it was repaid in the form of revenge. Erwin couldn’t understand why humans were like this. Was it too difficult to keep a grudge? Would humans rather let go of their hatred instead of keeping it close? All of that led to the next line.

_Humans loved_.

They loved too much.

Once they opened their hearts, it was enough to reel in even gods. Love was strong enough to bring people together, despite their differences; it was an emotion so strong, Erwin spent a long time believing only humans could experience it. It was easy to confuse love with reliance, and Erwin still had trouble telling the two apart, but he came to learn that love wasn’t simply a human trait. Animals could love as well, and sure enough, gods could too. It happened to Erwin once.

Her name was Nadia.

In every sense of the word, she was beautiful. She was a shy girl who had moved into the area with her father from Germany; she seemed ready to take on the world the moment she got there. Erwin had met her through a case regarding her father’s papers; he wanted to build up a shop and needed a permit, but he was having trouble getting one through the government. Love was the last thing on his mind; it was something he still didn’t believe in. Yet, as the most eloquent lawyer in the country (or so he was called), he was at a loss for words when Nadia spoke to him. He didn’t know if it was her unusual green eyes that reeled him in, or her blunt words and warm personality, but before he knew it he couldn’t stay away from her. He thought he could break it off, by telling her what he was so there was no way she’d want him around. She’d think he was crazy and tell him to leave.

But that didn’t happen. He approached her one morning as she was doing her daily routines around the house, sweeping around the corners of the kitchen until there wasn’t any sign of dust. When he approached her, she only blinked at him, the broom grasped tightly in her small hands as she listened to his ridiculous story. He remembered her response as clear as day.

“I believe you. You have no reason to lie to me.” She rested her chin on the handle and gave him a bright smile. “You must have been lonely huh?”

And that was all it took. That year they got married, bought a house, and by the end of that year Erwin found himself facing something he had forgotten was possible.

He held his twin daughters in a mixture of terror and happiness, neither emotion overpowered the other enough. Nadia named them Karilyn and Millie, claiming they were strong German names for strong German girls—she had no doubt that their daughters would do great things in the world, and Erwin had no reason to doubt her. But he did know that he was walking on thin ice. He was breaking one of the most important codes the gods had. Half human children were considered one of the most pure forms of sin and destruction, but Erwin wouldn’t accept that. He went through every length it took to keep them safe and hidden, along with his wife. He kept up his appearances, even if that meant missing a majority of his daughter’s lives. And his daughters were beautiful, just like their mother. Not only that, but they were soon labelled as geniuses, excelling in their studies at an early age. Millie wanted to be a doctor and Karilyn wanted to be a dentist; Erwin knew they could be whatever they wanted to be. Nothing brought him more joy than seeing their smiling faces and curly blonde hair after a long day at work; never in his existence had he been that happy. But even the great things prove to be temporary.

_Humans aged_.

In a blink of an eye, the twins stood taller than their mother. Time made Nadia sick, and the small greys that touched her hair came from what she claimed was stress. Time didn’t pass the same way for gods as it did for humans; to them, time was much more precious, something that was limited and necessary, but to gods it was only a way of organization. Time hadn’t held meaning for a long time, and Erwin had to work hard to make it matter. A birthday every year brought his girls closer and closer to adulthood (which started at eighteen, who would’ve known?). Every year passed as quickly as any other week, and to him that was terrifying. The only thing he could think about was how much time he had left.

_Humans cried_.

They cried when they were sad, when they were mad, and even when they were happy. Erwin had never felt a human emotion powerful enough to make him cry until he met Nadia. Profound hurt came with love, yet Erwin didn’t expect to feel it. Showing emotions could be considered dangerous, but when gods spent most of their time among humans, they were bound to learn from them.

_Humans lied_.

At first, Erwin was shocked about this. Why would they go through the effort of doing something like that? That was one of his most naïve thoughts as a young god. Simply because it didn’t take long for him to realize that gods lied too. As hard as it was to admit, Headquarters was built off of lies and deception. Erwin knew the trust established among the gods was an illusion; it was only a matter of time before that illusion shattered. Gods could only exist among humans through deception as well, it was a known fact they bitterly accepted.

_Humans died_.

For four hundred and fifty years, Erwin had spent his time trying to help others. He was given both the name Erwin and the title of Judgement in order to fulfill his purpose in this world. However, he still struggled with the concept of death. It was something that felt so out of reach and unknown; there was no way to imagine it. Humans grew old and died in only a fraction of a god’s life; with the average life span being around eighty years old, what could possibly be achieved? Erwin felt as if he was still a child after eighty years, it certainly wasn’t enough time to make a difference, yet humans were changing the course of history. While humans were able to love easily, their weak natures allowed them to quickly hate one another as well. That hate took many forms, and one of the most dangerous ones was war. War plagued the world for as long as Erwin could remember, and it would never go away. War meant thousands of countless deaths that should have been avoided.

Death didn’t touch Erwin until Nadia’s sickness consumed her.

It wasn’t quick like what Erwin had mostly seen, but slow and painful. Nadia was sick for a long time; her health deteriorated when the twins were only fifteen, but her heart didn’t give up until they were eighteen. Erwin didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t help her, he couldn’t ease her suffering, and he couldn’t smile to make it seem like everything was alright. His girls handled things better than he did, and somehow they eased Nadia’s pain up until her last moments.

Erwin’s world changed once Nadia left it. He hadn’t ever considered the world as something monochromatic, but everything looked as if the color had washed away. He’d clearly fallen into a slump. Work became something tedious and annoying; he couldn’t understand why he had to spend his time doing something that he never decided on himself. He invested himself in his children, who were already old enough to be on their own and knew how to live their lives. How could he protect them? Erwin knew he couldn’t fight time.

But it wasn’t time he should’ve been worried about.

It was the eyes that watched his every move. The archangels who waited until Erwin had finally reached his lowest point before taking the last source of his happiness. It wasn’t on a dark and stormy night when it happened, but a relatively clear, cloudless evening. It was one of the worst calls he’d ever gotten, but he didn’t need the call to know what had happened. The pain of losing his children mixed with the pain of broken bonds was crippling; Erwin had finally hit rock bottom. He no longer had his foothold amongst mankind; he had no motivation for his job as a god. Just like that, his happiness was sucked away before he truly had a chance to enjoy it. The twins had just turned twenty-three, Erwin didn’t have the chance to tell them happy birthday.

_Humans are selfish_.

They exist for self-fulfillment. Humans survived through instinct and self-preservation; they lived only for themselves and ultimately cared for no one but themselves. It was built into their hardware like a program, and that was something Erwin could understand. However, there were some humans who cared more for others than they did for themselves, but sometimes even that was for their own sake. To feel good by doing something for others was a double standard; was the action truly done for the other or for themselves? It was hard to tell.

Gods weren’t supposed to be selfish, yet they grew to be over time. In reality, everyone is on their own and must learn to exist that way; how else would that be possible if there wasn’t selfishness?

Love could be considered selfish as well. To seek out someone who accepts the other fully, to not have to spend a majority of life alone…it was all for the sake of oneself.

_Humans were very hard to judge_.

Judgement required too much emotion, and that was something gods did not have. As a child, Erwin had to learn basic human emotions and try to apply it to certain situations. There was sadness, anger, happiness, excitement, and surprise. Once he was thrust into the human world, he had to learn the others on his own; he had to listen to stories and defend humans who felt as if they were done wrong. There were times where even he, after weeks of review and revision, couldn’t honestly tell if his client was innocent. How could that be justice? He could try to define it down to its pure dictionary term:

Justice (noun): the quality of being just; righteousness, equitableness, or moral righteousness.

It was a difficult situation. Justice was more than telling right from wrong; it was upholding all that was fair and just. Erwin wasn’t the god of morality; it didn’t come naturally to him as often as it should.

In fact, Erwin had to have this journal to serve as his own guide to humanity. He had to pour in information he picked up, scribble in footnotes and quotes, and highlight the most important facts as if he were studying for a test.

It was almost a waste of time; soon enough someone had written “How to Understand Humans For Dummies”—yes it existed, in fact Erwin currently owned it—it sat sandwiched between “Travelling for Those with No Time to Travel” and “How to Climb Out the Eternal Midlife Crisis”. Those joined hundreds of other books and guides he had accumulated but rarely got around to reading. Of course, Erwin found his journal much more helpful than the other book, his had an appropriate amount of humor while the other made him feel like, bluntly said, an idiot.

As he looked at his bookshelf, he could only imagine his office back at Headquarters; it was as if a bomb had gone off in that room, scattering everything in its path. The room used to be clean and organized, things were in their proper places and files were easy to find; Erwin thought he was a relatively organized person himself, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had actually buckled down and cleaned his office. Perhaps he’d been overworking himself again; it tended to show when he’d even leave the house in disarray, earning the full wrath of Levi when he came home.

For some reason Levi didn’t ever bicker at the state of his office, as if that wasn’t any of his business, but sometimes Erwin wished he would. It would be the small push he needed to get the job done. Instead, Levi would look at him with an expression he knew too well. It was the same expression a majority of Headquarters gave him. Erwin knew. He had fallen off the deep end again. He was breaking apart in front of them again, and if he truly did shatter into the pieces that made up his entire being, so would Headquarters.

He had to be the support beams that held up their heads and told them they were okay, even when things weren’t. Yet once again, Erwin didn’t know what he could do to stop the damage. He felt like he was watching his family die again; the things he wanted to protect were being taken away from him, but slow enough for him to watch it happen without being able to help. Not only was it infuriating, it was embarrassing. A leader that couldn’t protect their followers didn’t deserve to be called a leader. He didn’t have the option of letting everyone down. At least, not more than he already had.

_Without humans, gods are nothing_.

Gods are born from human wishes and desires. They’re brought into the world in order to serve humans and to fulfill those wishes; however, with positive wishes there were also negative opposites in order to maintain balance. Those who wished for miracles and good fortune would also create the god of calamity, those who wanted peace would get war, those who wanted happiness would get wrath and so forth. It was said that the oldest god was Death, but when Erwin met Levi he wasn’t sure what to think.

Erwin was given orders from the Council to make his own army of gods. For what reason, he wasn’t exactly sure but he could assume it was for the safety of the Council in the future. Erwin would question why he would still serve the gods who took everything away from him, the ones who lied to him and ultimately dragged him through the mud for their own “personal reasons”. The answer would always be the same. Erwin didn’t have a choice because he had no reason to refuse. Suppose he denied the higher gods their army, what would become of him? He would be rejected and stripped of his title, and that was something that could not happen. So he started by going after the god of Death, who was known for losing control and taking lives that weren’t meant to be taken. He didn’t know if he’d be able to reel Levi in, especially with his crude and violent outburst during their first meeting. He couldn’t be straightforward and say that the Council wanted Levi under their control, so instead he made it a more personal matter. He told Levi that he needed him for his own goal, and that he wouldn’t stop until he joined him.

“Two gods working together, are you insane?” He spat back at him with eyes that brewed with both hatred and the fear of a cornered animal. Death couldn’t be controlled, but Erwin wouldn’t learn that until later. With Levi by his side, Erwin managed to assemble the army Council wanted from him:

Eren, the god of wrath; Armin, the god of wisdom; Annie, the god of sacrifice; Connie, the god of humor; Sasha, the god of the hunt; Reiner, the god of war; Bertholdt, the god of morality; Mikasa, the god of strength; Ymir, the god of lust; Christa, the god of well-being; Levi, the god of death; All joined him with little trouble or hesitation. However, there was one more god Erwin had to obtain, and that was one of his biggest challenges: the god of calamity.

At the time, this god was running rampant. He had destroyed cities and wiped out populations, nearly going insane with his own power. Erwin had been warned that he was one of the most powerful of the younger gods due to his lack of control, not only that but he wouldn’t come along easy. Jean wasn’t the friendliest god Erwin had to recruit; in fact, they had to take him in by force in order to talk sense into him. Thus, Headquarters was born, perhaps not as united as it was supposed to be, but it was there. Erwin and Levi had to work to knit the bonds that would hold them together; it was especially difficult considering gods were not born to follow one another let alone get along.

_Humans have changed gods_.

By spending time amongst the most influential beings in the world, gods were bound to change. Gods learned human emotions, some learned how to love. Gods learned to love each other. By watching humans live their lives, it was soon seen as a luxury that gods could never have. Gods began to get jealous of humans and their simple lives; gods no longer wanted to be bound by the titles that tethered them to this world. The god of war began to reject the concept until he wanted only love and peace, the god of calamity suddenly stopped causing disasters and instead misfortune naturally followed him. It was a dangerous phenomenon that floated among the gods. Whether they knew it or not, gods were slowly becoming human.

And that made the Council furious.

There was no way they could understand, as beings that rarely entered the human world; they couldn’t know how humans were.

Erwin could feel it happening to himself. His world began to revolve around Levi, and before he knew it, he was looking at Levi to fill the gaping hole in his heart. Levi sought him out for the same reason; together they established a relationship that felt more like reliance than love (Erwin still didn’t know the difference that well). They needed one another to properly function; that was something they both knew.

Reliance and Love came hand and hand in Headquarters. It seemed gods sought out one another to fill their own empty hearts for a more permanent amount of time. Gods were selfish…but perhaps if it they could be selfish together it wouldn’t be so bad.

_After all, no one can truly be judged_.

Everyone had their own reason for acting. Sometimes no party was in the wrong or both were. No one has a deep enough understanding to correctly judge the actions of an individual.

Therefore what was Erwin’s purpose?

He had to work with the tools he was given to meet the expectations that hung above his head. That was the only thing keeping him together.

 

 

Erwin shut the journal with a long sigh.

His past words didn’t sooth the ache in his chest; he didn’t know why he had expected them to. He needed a plan; he needed to solve this problem before it got out of hand. It wasn’t about him anymore, and it certainly wasn’t about the Council. He cared more about his little makeshift family than the dictators that ruled over them. Erwin would take the steps it took to protect everyone instead of watching their demise sneak up on them. This time Erwin wouldn’t watch his loved ones die.

Erwin sunk farther in his seat and set his eyes on the flame of the candle beside him. It jumped and flickered in the dark, yet it kept burning to light the small space in front of him. Erwin watched it with a bit of envy; this candle had enough wax to burn for a long time yet, but Erwin’s candle seemed to be reaching its last hour.

He glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching him in the dark. Levi stood in front of him, his face set in his usual scowl as he looked down at him. Erwin expected a crass joke or something to prompt him to defend his stressing, but Levi didn’t say anything. Instead, he settled in Erwin’s lap and curled up like a cat, resting his head on Erwin’s chest in silence. Together, they watched the candle burn away with the smell of vanilla and smoke. Levi picked up Erwin’s journal and ran his fingers over the cover without opening it. Levi never opened it; Erwin wouldn’t mind if he did, at this point he felt as if his words were Levi’s. He had nothing more to hide.

Levi had been surprisingly silent lately, and as the god of Death, that put Erwin on edge. Levi knew the smell of death better than anyone, and Erwin had no doubt Levi could predict what was going to happen. Erwin could never bring himself to ask; he wouldn’t be able to change the course of this war, and the smell of death never went away.

Erwin wound his arms around Levi’s smaller frame and held him close. He didn’t know how much longer he could hold Levi like this, and that pained him more than anything.

Erwin made a promise to himself. No matter what, he would keep Levi safe. If it was the last thing he had to do before his dying breath, he’d do it. That was enough to tell him that this was no longer dependence. He wanted to keep Levi alive for reasons that transcended his own desire; it was like a vow had carved itself on his heart. If this was the last time he could hold Levi in his arms, his arms would have to be cut off before he’d ever let go. Erwin almost wished he could get gray hair, at least that would show him how much he was stressing over his decisions. He wished his four hundred years amounted to a little more than just this—

“Stop it.” Levi mumbled. He had been silent for so long Erwin had thought he’d fallen asleep.

“Stop what?”

Levi knotted a fist in Erwin’s sweater. “Just…stop it.”

It was enough to make Erwin chuckle. He had known Levi long enough to know what he meant.

_Stop worrying_.

Levi had changed since they had first met, that was for sure. Erwin never dreamed he’d fall this hard for him; he never imagined he could hurt this badly. It seemed like his life was full of endless suffering.

Erwin envied humans because they only had to suffer for so long before they finally died. Gods suffered for what felt like forever before their burden could be lifted.

Erwin shut his eyes. Every night since Nadia died, Erwin had apologized. He apologized for everything; for who he was, for what he’d done, for what he couldn’t do, for the things that had happened to her. Now he had to apologize for something else; he didn’t know if it was something he should apologize for though.

He was going to apologize for letting her go.

It was something that had taken him almost a hundred years to work up the nerve to do, but it had to be done. He didn’t want any more regrets.

When he felt the stinging, wet sensation in his eyes that he’d almost forgotten, Erwin buried his face in Levi’s dark hair. Instead of pushing away the emotions that had built up in the corners of his mind, Erwin let himself hurt.

_I’m sorry for falling in love with someone else. I’m sorry I have to let you go. I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better husband, I’m sorry I couldn’t be a better father._

His existence had been built on apologies.

To do the right thing…that was all he wanted.

He didn’t care about living an easy life, he didn’t care if people were proud of him, he just wanted to do the right thing.

Levi stirred in his grip. He turned to look up at him; Erwin could see himself reflected in the dark grey abyss of his eyes. They stared at each other for what felt like a lifetime before Levi spoke. His words echoed through the empty apartment despite the fact that he spoke in a whisper.

“Erwin, you have to remember that a god can do no wrong.”

It resonated in his bones and stirred doubts. Since gods could do no wrong, and humans were the only ones who could sin, why was that the case?

Erwin buried his hands in Levi’s hair, focusing on the silky feeling between his fingers and the way Levi’s eyes rolled back in contentment. That was enough.

A cold draft blew through the room, strong enough to ruffle Erwin’s hair and blow out the candle. The sudden darkness held a heavier feeling than it normally did, and as if on cue, Levi shivered against him.

War was coming whether they were ready or not.

Erwin knew what he had to do. He was prepared to make the sacrifices necessary to keep Headquarters together. Even if that meant he had to die to protect what was important to him, so be it.

Erwin shut his eyes again with a heavy sigh.

And that had to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goodness the end of the chapter bummed me out there…I hope you all enjoyed a look into Erwin’s past, and the next chapter I believe gets back to the main story via Jean’s point of view. Thank you for your continued support and kudos and comments!


	11. Fissure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything seems to be catching up to Jean, and while some things seem to be starting, it just feels like everything is going to end. And it may come sooner than he thinks.

Jean had a feeling that his easy days were coming to an end.

He used to be scared of it, but not anymore. He was bracing himself for the impact that would shake his foundation; a structure so poorly rebuilt it was only a matter of time before something‒or someone‒finally broke it down again. The only difference was that this time Jean didn’t believe he’d be able to sweep up the remains and try to start over again. That this would truly be the end, or if it wasn’t then he should at least give up. It was the waiting that drove him mad; waiting for something, anything, to happen so he could point to himself and say, ‘I told you so’. When was Erwin going to make the call to the rest of Headquarters? When was Marco going to tell him what was going on? When was the inevitable going to happen? The only explanation was that something had already happened, but that didn’t narrow his endless list of possibilities.

Jean had crawled into bed a long while ago and burrowed himself amongst his blankets when his phone began to buzz at the side of his head. He pretended to ignore it, but the bright light shone through his closed eyelids to remind him that it was only nine o’clock at night.

“What?” Jean growled into the receiver, unaware of who was on the other line.

“Sorry did I wake you?” a familiar voice responded softly. Jean’s eyes snapped open in surprise and his annoyance dwindled away.

“Marco? No, what’s wrong?”

“Relax.” Marco chuckled softly on the other line, but Jean couldn’t tell if it was authentic. “I was wondering if you wanted to get a drink with me.”

“You’re drinking now?” Was Jean’s automatic response. He couldn’t keep the concern out of his voice; Marco had told him that he never drank. When they were together, even when Jean had a beer, Marco wouldn’t touch one. He never knew if it was due to medical concerns or his own moral reasoning, but for such a sudden switch…

Maybe he was overthinking it. Marco was a college student–college kids drank, maybe Marco had finally started getting on board with it. He was at a legal age to do it whenever he wanted to, but it didn’t change the fact that Marco wasn’t acting like himself. The last thing Jean needed to add to his list was the idea of Marco drinking alone.

“If you can’t make it that’s alright—”

“I’ll come. Are you going now?”

“Uh, y-yeah. I’m walking to the bar on Sina Street right now.”

“I’ll meet you there.” Jean threw off his blankets and jumped out of bed. He tried to navigate his room in the dark as quickly as possible without colliding into something. He had grown accustomed to picking up clothes off the floor, so when he reached down and only found hard wood instead of dirty laundry, he felt a little out of place when he had to walk over to his closet to find something to wear. He couldn’t care less what he wore; he had to be ready and out of his apartment in three minutes if he wanted to make it on time.

 

 

 

He made it out after six minutes. As he stepped out into the cool night air, the worry began to hit him. What if something really bad had happened to Marco? Jean wasn’t stupid, he knew Marco was drinking to forget, Jean had gotten plastered more times than he could count over things like that, but what if Marco actually started talking? Jean didn’t know how to console; not only that, but humans spilled everything when they were drunk. It was as if drinking and confessions came hand-in-hand, and sometimes those confessions were better left unsaid. As much as he wanted to know the truth, Jean was scared of it. He wanted to help Marco, to help him heal, but that wasn’t what he did. He made others feel worse. He was the reason others were hurting.

“This sucks.” Jean muttered. He dipped his hands into his pants’ pockets and trudged his way down the street, unsure what he was about to walk into.

He did know that he was walking into Trost’s prime happy hour, which wasn’t even an hour as it happened nearly all night since city dwellers never wanted to sleep on Friday nights. The city became the ugliest on this side; bums and sketchy characters meandered through the streets and alleys doing who-knows-what. At least the dark hid some of the trash that gathered on the sides of the streets and overflowed from the garbage cans; if only it could hide the crime and pain that ravaged within the walls of the city as well. Jean believed most of the city had long gone to shit, and if someone didn’t try to clean the city up it would rot from the inside out, poisoning the people along with it.

The city wasn’t all that bad though. The nicer district lit the city up like it was brand new, mostly because the nicer district was the newer district, filled with nightclubs and cinemas that weren’t necessary but added a little entertainment that helped keep the small wealthy percent occupied. Once Jean began to see the bright lights that crisscrossed overhead, wound around light posts and restaurant rooftops, he knew he was in the Stohess District—and less likely to be stabbed.

He scanned the signs, finally stopping in front of the bar Marco was talking about. The man himself stood leaning against the clean brick, eyes trained on the street in front of him. He somehow looked older; Jean figured it was the close-fitting dark polo he wore rather than the T-shirts and flannels Jean was used to seeing on him.

He turned his head in time to see Jean approaching him. When he registered that it was Jean, a small smile crept onto on his face, but even that didn’t touch his eyes.

“Shall we?” Marco led the way into the bar. They got a curt nod from the bouncer as they squeezed in past the groups mingling near the entrance and found seats near the back of the room.

Marco slid into his seat, a high-set bar stool that put him at the table’s height; Jean joined him on the other side, taking in the place as he got comfortable. It was easy to tell that they were in the Stohess district just from looking at the place; the district tried too hard to be flashy, trying to compensate for the shitty part of the city that lurked just across its borders.

The ceilings were tall and lined with black metal while bright decorative lights wound around each bar that ran down the length of the room. The lights barely offered anything other than the aesthetic, it was the massive flat screen TVs along the wall that lit up the otherwise dark room; each screen focused on the same football game, and from what Jean was gathering from the crowds clustered at the front of the bar, the Titans were losing tonight.

“You don’t have to be so on edge Jean.” Marco’s voice brought Jean’s attention back to him. Jean wasn’t aware that he was so stiff, but once Marco mentioned it, Jean could feel the tension in his spine and the shaking of his hands. It was the worry knocking in the back of his mind; as if to remind him that maybe, his comfortable days with Marco were over.

“Can’t help it.” Jean remarked before running a hand through his tangled hair. “You called me out pretty suddenly.”

“Yeah, sorry. I just felt like drinking tonight.” Marco’s eyes went from the bar to Jean. “And I felt bad for not being around as much anymore.”

Jean couldn’t help the little smirk that crept on his face. “Sometimes I feel bad for taking up all of your time. You should be out with your girlfriend or something.”

Marco’s eyes finally focused on Jean’s with his full attention. “Girlfriend?”

“Yeah, like going out on dates and shit while you’re still young.” Jean dropped his gaze to the wooden table. He didn’t know if it was the bar atmosphere or what, but he was starting to itch for a drink too.

Marco shuffled in his seat. He opened his mouth to respond and just as quickly shut it; he seemed to run through a dozen different responses in his head until he finally spoke.

“Nah…I’m not really into that…”

“Dating would do you some good.” Jean leaned closer to see Marco’s expression better in the dark. “You’re a nice guy and easy to talk to…but I can’t say that I’ll be happy when someone finally does steal you away.”

Marco measured Jean’s words before he gave him a humored smile.

“That’s not going to happen Jean.”

“You never know what’s going to happen.” The words echoed in Jean’s head; to him, they held a more sinister meaning than what he’d intended.

Marco shook his head and slid out of his seat. “I guess you’re right. I’m going to get us some drinks.”

 

 

Once Marco returned, the conversation picked up; Marco had managed to survive his finals and yet another year in college, but boy did he have a lot to say about his professors.

“Your chemistry teacher is petty.” Jean grumbled in response to one of Marco’s stories. Marco nodded in agreement, chugging his way through yet another beer. Jean tried to keep tabs on the amount they were drinking, but with Jean trying to keep up with Marco and Marco on a roll, it wasn’t long until the table was covered with empty glasses and Marco was finally smiling again. The lights became brighter, dancing across the room near a group that had gathered in the corner singing karaoke—rather badly at that.

Jean didn’t know what to do.

It wasn’t like things were out of control; Marco wasn’t spilling his guts—neither figuratively or physically—and he didn’t feel like the world was spinning yet. He could admit that he was laughing again, and as rare as that was, he didn’t feel like this was a bad thing. He was happy. Marco was happy. Be it temporary happiness or the illusion of happiness, it didn’t matter. They were together and Marco was smiling; that was all that mattered.

Jean paused with his beer bottle pressed against his lips. It was strange how much he cared about Marco’s happiness. Since when did he invest his time into worrying about someone to this degree? Maybe he helped out his friends with their issues—ironic when he couldn’t even solve his own—but with Marco…he never wanted to see Marco upset again. Once again, he was faced with a selfish and impossible wish; with Marco being human, his life was bound to be filled with many, many more unpleasant things.

Marco’s parents were getting a divorce.

Jean wasn’t sure if that was the main stem of his freckled friend’s distress, but it seemed to pain Marco when the words came out of his mouth. Saying the words allowed them to escape into reality; it was Marco’s way of finally accepting it. But by the way it sounded, that was only the beginning of Marco’s sadness. Jean wanted to know, but he didn’t want to pry.

So he drank. And Marco drank. Time ticked on as it always did, and finally Jean had to call it quits. Marco cocked his head when Jean pushed aside his last drink adamantly, succeeding in knocking over several bottles.

“I gotta take a leak.” Jean tried not to fall off his stool and mentally cringed at his lie. But, as he rounded the corner and entered the restroom, Jean realized how necessary this break was. He’d never been so flushed in his existence; he patted his cheeks, hoping the red would fade enough for him to look normal again. As he washed his hands the room spun. The only thing keeping him anchored was his wet hands on the sides of the porcelain sink. The thought alone made Jean laugh, his voice surprisingly loud in the empty bathroom. He made his way back one step at a time, his eyes on his feet to make sure he wouldn’t trip and fall on his face, when he collided with someone.

Two hands held him by the shoulders to keep him steady. Jean dragged his eyes up to meet a set of magnetic green eyes. They pierced straight into Jean’s conscious, and they made every hair on his body bristle. Although it was delayed, he still got the message that this man was dangerous.

“You okay man?” the guy laughed softly and gave Jean’s shoulders a light squeeze. “Someone’s been having a good time.”

Jean opened his mouth, but he couldn’t form a response in his head. The guy’s grip tightened.

“What are you doing?” Another taller man walked up behind the first guy, peering over his shoulder to see Jean. One look at his eyes made Jean’s blood turn cold. Unnatural crimson eyes looked him over in curiosity, the same eyes he had seen what felt like ages ago.

_Rogue._

“He’s a looker, isn’t he?”

Jean turned rigid under their gaze, but his fear was only temporary. It was as if a switch went off in his mind, replacing the fear with annoyance just as quickly as it had come.

_A looker?_

“You doing anything tonight? You should come hang out with us.” The taller one came around to stand behind Jean, leaning down to whisper in his ear. It was hard to hear beyond the pulsing of music and loud voices that filled the bar.

“Not interested.” Jean pried the pair of hands off and scowled at the guy in front of him. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do?”

His response earned him a smirk from the first guy, his friend chuckled behind Jean’s head. As Jean looked between the two, he was quickly hit with a close blow to the stomach. Although the fist connected, Jean never felt the pain; his body simply crunched in on itself in reflex; it was the other man who hissed in pain, cradling his fist to his chest with an almost offended expression. Jean had to be thankful for one of the few perks of being a god.

“What the fuck?” Jean tried to duck out of the larger guy’s grip, only to end up being lifted off the floor by his armpits. Jean braced himself for another meaningless hit just as someone threw a punch into his first attacker’s face, sending him crashing back against the wall.

It took Jean a few moments to realize who had thrown the punch, and even longer to notice that he had been put back down. The second guy was coming for Marco in rage; the size difference between the two made Jean’s stomach drop. He didn’t have time to stand there in awe after seeing Marco punch someone—he didn’t even think that Marco believed in physical violence. Jean, acting on impulse, planted a fist in the Rogue’s side hard enough for him to crumple to the floor with a groan. Energy buzzed through Jean’s system; some mixture of alcohol and adrenaline flowed through his veins, making him feel invincible. He wanted to hit something else. He wanted to feel this rush again, why had he wanted to forget it? He kept watch on the red-eyed man, but he remained where he was; Jean figured he wouldn’t move for a while.

His thoughts scattered when two soft hands cradled both sides of his face. With each flashing light, Jean could see Marco illuminated in alternating colors of green, red, blue, and yellow. The dark couldn’t hide the shine in his amber eyes, nor could it hide the gleam of his ultraviolet smile as he looked at Jean.

“Are you okay?” Marco had to ask loudly for Jean to hear. Jean blinked back at him, focusing on the feeling of Marco’s thumbs stroking his cheekbones. The contact left a tingling sensation on his face, as if static were passing between them. Jean had never felt something like that before, and it wasn’t unpleasant in the least, in fact it was addicting—he wanted Marco to touch him more, to make that feeling spread through his entire body…

Jean’s eyes widened as his thoughts caught up with him. He lightly shook his head, but didn’t have the will to take Marco’s hands off of his face.

“I’m okay.”

Marco stared at him for what felt like years. Jean met his gaze easily, but his breathing was beginning to fail him. Something was happening here, but Jean wasn’t exactly sure what it was. He didn’t know if Marco was intending to say something, or if the amount of alcohol fueling him at the moment was causing him to burn out; Jean tested the waters by lightly pressing his hands over Marco’s.

Marco leaned closer, a smile still on his face. “We should get going before we get in trouble.”

“Y-yeah…” Marco didn’t move away. He chewed on his lower lip as he thought about something, and then he moved again. Jean barely had time to take a breath before Marco pushed their lips together. Jean normally would’ve pulled away, but the second their lips made contact his entire body began to buzz with new energy. It was as if he were melting from the inside, contouring against Marco as their lips moved together. This was it. This was a feeling that Jean craved, and here it was from his freckled human friend—

Jean froze.

Marco noticed the pause and slowly pulled away to give Jean a concerned look.

“What’s wrong?” He murmured, a thumb tracing Jean’s bottom lip absentmindedly.

“This won’t make you happy.” Jean couldn’t look him in the eye. He couldn’t say what he needed to say. _I don’t make people happy_.

Marco shook his head, bumping their noses together.

“Jean look at me.”

Jean dragged his eyes up to stare into Marco’s, an abyss of emotions clustered together for Jean to see. He didn’t have time to look hard enough, but he could see what was on the surface: guilt, anguish, loss; but it wasn’t just negative things reflected in his eyes. Jean could see the warmth and longing there too, it was strong enough to flow through his touch and mingle with his words when he spoke. Jean knew he could spend ages organizing Marco’s emotions; he could sort them into little boxes and put them into rows and columns…he’d done it for himself many, many times. But he also felt like Marco’s emotions were similar to an ocean, churning with its own sense of purpose, and Jean would drown in it when he failed to keep all of the water contained.

Marco Bodt was a mystery.

Jean had spent his time believing that he was a regular human college boy with an average life trying to find himself in a big ass city. Like any human, this boy had hopes, dreams, and a family. Marco wanted to be a doctor, he wanted to help people; he wanted to be happy. If prompted, Jean could spill hundreds of useless facts he’d learned about Marco in the small amount of time they’d known each other, and Marco could probably recite some of facts about Jean as well. Marco was a good person down to his core—he could do no wrong, there was nothing bad in this boy yet here he was living in a bad city.

Jean was starting to realize that he didn’t know Marco at all.

Eyes being windows to the soul wasn’t bullshit. It was real, and Jean was nearly overwhelmed. It didn’t fill him with fear or warn him to leave before he damaged this boy further; instead it piqued his interest and made him want to stay longer. Who was the real Marco?

It was an internal conflict; leave and save him or stay and ruin him. Jean held a desire for both just as equally, but he could never make the decision on his own. He always wanted to put Marco first, but living without Marco after all of this time…it sounded like hell.

“Jean, _you make me happy_.” Marco brought their lips together once again, and that was all Jean needed. If Marco wanted him, he could have him. If he was fulfilling his role and keeping Marco company, then it was okay.

_It’s okay._

Jean wove his fingers through Marco’s thick dark hair. He tried to drink in everything at once: Marco’s scent, the sparks running along his jawline where Marco cupped his face, the soft feeling of him on his lips.

Marco pulled back abruptly and ran a tongue over his lips. His hand dropped down at lightning speed to grip Jean’s and Marco led them to the front door. Jean cast a quick look over his shoulder and frowned when he saw that the two men were missing from their spots on the floor. He didn’t have time to look around the bar for them; Marco was pulling him along too fast for him to keep up as it was. They stumbled into the night air laughing and out of breath.

“I am not getting arrested tonight.” Marco chuckled and stopped on the curb. He wasted no time in hailing a taxi; Jean had to admit he had never seen someone hail a taxi on the first attempt in Trost. They always had a passenger or were rude enough to just pretend like they didn’t see you, but sure enough a cab pulled to a stop right in front of Marco.

_Luck versus Misfortune._

Jean rolled his eyes and climbed into the cab next to Marco without a word. He was nearly overwhelmed with the smell of cigarette smoke and greasy pizza the second he closed the door.

“Where to?” The man at the front rasped.

Jean told him his address and ignored the smirk that crept up on the cab drivers face. He tried to calm the blood pounding in his head as they rode in the back seat, but failed when Marco’s hand made itself at home on the inside of his thigh.

Jean glared down at his hands, which were balled in his lap, as he fought the urge to grab Marco and pull him closer. Now that he’d had a taste, it wasn’t enough.

Marco’s hand moved up dangerously closer and Jean let out a small hiss, which he quickly covered up with a cough. He shot Marco a dirty look, but Marco was staring out the window.

 

 

Marco paid the driver and the two climbed out the car. They waited for the cab driver to leave before they stepped into the apartment and slowly made their trek up the hallway stairs.

“Gonna break my fucking neck.” Jean muttered under his breath once he finally reached the top. Marco laughed behind him, relying on the railing to keep him upright as he finished his trek.

It took Jean four tries to unlock the door. Somehow every key was wrong and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking; Marco got impatient and took the keys from him, managing to unlock the door with one try. They didn’t bother flicking on the lights. Once the door was shut, Marco pulled Jean back into their earlier embrace; they kissed in the hallway for what felt like both a lifetime and a heartbeat before Jean led the way to his room with a smirk.

Marco sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Jean onto his lap, planting kisses along his jaw and neck before burying his face in Jean’s collarbone. Jean loved the warmth, even when he knew it was temporary. Each kiss was well-placed, but Jean just couldn’t have that. He pulled Marco’s lips back to his own, running his tongue along the inside of Marco’s mouth with a light groan. The sound was enough to stir something in Marco; he moved to pull Jean’s shirt up and over his head before removing his own. Jean’s breath hitched as he stared at Marco’s torso. Tan skin stretched over ridges of abdominal muscle that Jean wasn’t expecting in the least. Freckles dotted the top of his shoulders and back in their own patterns very differently than they did on his face. Jean traced them in awe as he ran his fingers down his spine.

“I uh…played football in high school. I hated it though.” Marco murmured.

“I had no idea.” Jean replied. He didn’t know what to do next; Marco simply watched him with an unreadable expression as he held him on his lap. Jean chewed on the inside of his cheek as he contemplated his options. He had led Marco in with a small surge of rare confidence, but now he didn’t know what to do. Was he supposed to initiate something? Were they even going to do anything?

“You’re thinking too much.” Marco mused and shifted Jean’s weight on his lap. Jean could feel what was digging into him. “We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.”

“No that’s not it.” Jean frowned down at his hands. They rested at the waistband of Marco’s jeans, unsure of whether to proceed or not.

Marco cocked his head to the side, a lazy smile on his face.

“Okay.” Was all he said; he pulled Jean into another kiss, unbuckling Jean’s pants as he did so. Jean closed his eyes and found himself repeating the same phrase over and over again.

_Please make this last. Please make this last. Please make this last._

Because he of all people knew he could never be that lucky.

 

 

 

 

Jean woke up to the sound of constant buzzing. It was coming from somewhere near his leg, and it took him a while to fish it out from under the sheets and bring it to his face. He waited until his eyes focused on the bright screen, and once they did he felt a rock drop to the bottom of his stomach.

**_> >>Bald Monkey: 50 unread messages_ **

Connie’s first messages were calm, informing him of the meeting they were having, but the more recent ones grew panicked.

**_Dude wake the fuck up!_ **

**_The meeting’s going to start in ten minutes!_ **

**_LEVI’S GOING TO RIP YOUR BALLS OFF IF YOU’RE NOT HERE JEAN_ **

**_DUDE HURRY_ **

**_NOW YOU HAVE NINE MINUTES_ **

Jean sat up bolt upright and immediately regretted it; the world spun at a dangerous speed as he tried to pull himself together. He had to force down his urge to vomit as he slid out of bed; vaguely aware that he was only in his underwear. He turned around and nearly yelped when he saw Marco lying in his bed. With his head buried in one of Jean’s pillows, Marco slept peacefully with his back exposed to the sunlight filtering through the windows above the headrest. Jean tried not to stare as he jumped into his clothes and typed back a response to Connie as quickly as his sleep deprived state allowed him. As he turned to leave, the rock got heavier.

_I can’t leave like this._

The second he walked out that door, everything would be up in the air. Marco would possibly wake up to an empty apartment, thinking Jean left him, and then what? What was their relationship now?

Jean looked around, panicking as his time ticked away. He scavenged a notepad and scribbled a message on it, setting it next to Marco on the bed before he darted out of the apartment.

Jean ran towards headquarters at a hard sprint, dodging pedestrians on the sidewalk as he did so and ignoring traffic laws as if they never existed. He earned a healthy amount of angry honks and shouts as he raced against the odds, bracing himself for the boot Levi was about to eternally put up his ass.

Jean nearly ran through the glass doors without opening them, took the stairs two at a time to the third floor, and fell into the conference room. Everyone there barely spared him a glance as he tried to catch his breath, aside from Connie who blew out a heavy sigh and groaned towards the ceiling. He had probably been counting down the seconds until Jean finally got there. He gave Jean an annoyed roll of his eyes as Jean fumbled his way over to the table.

He checked his phone. He had gotten there with a minute to spare, but that was cutting it way too close; Levi gave Jean a small look of disdain before he went back to his conversation with Erwin in the back of the room. Jean took his seat across from Reiner, offering him a small smile as he got comfortable. Reiner stared at him in wide-eyed shock.

Jean ignored him. Reiner always had to make things weird.

“Alright now that everyone’s here I’ll start the meeting.” Erwin spun in his chair to face them.

Jean had just realized how quiet it was. When he had walked in, everyone was silent—that was something that had never happened before. And here Erwin was, starting a meeting without having to say “quiet down…”

The atmosphere was completely different. Everyone stared at Erwin warily and sat stiff as if they were expecting the blow Erwin was about to give them. At least Jean could say his friends weren’t oblivious.

“I’m sure many of you have caught on by now…” Erwin cast a quick look around the room, his eyes pausing a beat longer on Jean, “that we are going to war.”

There wasn’t a stir of movement in the room until Reiner cast his head down to avoid the glances he got in his direction.

“This is the first time Council has been challenged by so large of a group.” Erwin kept his stony expression in place as he spoke. “And it is our responsibility to guard the Council until reinforcements come. Considering the size of the opposing group and their status…I can’t say this will be an easy fight.”

The room remained quiet.

“But we’ve been together a long time and I know your individual skills. This is not a suicide mission; I will never allow my comrades to die in front of me.”

Levi used his palms to massage his eyes. He remained seated on the back table, legs crossed and scowling at the floor.

“Any questions?” Erwin raised an eyebrow, but when he didn’t get an answer, Jean could see Erwin was threatening to break under pressure. It would have been better if they bombarded him with questions, what if statements, anything. Instead they all sat there staring as if he had finally given them the death sentence. In reality, they had accepted their sentences long ago.

“None huh.” Erwin murmured mostly to himself. After a long sigh, he told them to be mindful of their surroundings for the time being, to always be ready for the worst.

Jean couldn’t think of a worse timing for his hangover.

The news hit his friends harder than he imagined it to. They’d had rough times, walking into fights they didn’t believe they would walk away from and laughed about it, but now…things were different.

Things change.

The meeting ended and Erwin left the room with Levi in tow. No one spoke; they all sat around the table with their heads down, trying to think of what to do next. Eren stood up abruptly and left the room; Armin hesitated before getting up to follow him. The others did the same, getting up and leaving the table to go their separate ways until it was only Jean, Christa, and Ymir left. It wasn’t until Jean had stood up and made his way to leave that Ymir broke into a sob.

It was enough to stop Jean in his tracks. He slowly turned to look at the couple in the corner. Christa held Ymir as she cried with sobs large enough to wrack her wiry frame. It was an unusual sight; Christa was usually the one being held, but now it was the other way around. The pillars of support were crashing down on all of them; it was only a matter of time before they all had nothing left.

So there he stood, witnessing what he thought was impossible; and the worst part was that he didn’t have anything to console her. He had no words, no object and no ability to help her right now; that was why she had Christa. The small blonde patted Ymir’s head and murmured in her ear, her own blue eyes threatening to spill with tears.

Jean couldn’t watch. He quickly ducked out of the room, his only destination: back to the mess he had made at his apartment. At least that was his intention, but as he passed by the local grocery store he was reminded of how little food he had in his fridge. It didn’t look like it was too crowded at the moment; the soft music playing inside drew him to the entrance.

He figured he might as well grab some things while he had the chance. He picked up a basket and tried to focus on getting necessary things like soap, toilet paper, milk, and eggs, but then he wandered into the fresh produce and started picking up the things that caught his eye. He wanted to cook. He had no idea what exactly, but he had a cookbook and it would be a shame not to use it.

For the first time, Jean was having fun in a grocery store. He’d stop occasionally and just watch‒people of all shapes and sizes navigated around the place, filling it with the same bustle and background noise as the streets outside. Children clung to their parents as they examined products, and the older people clung to their carts and walkers as they worked on their own lists. All of these people belonged to someone, they all came home to someone, and they all had their own separate lives. Jean found that amazing. He had spent each day annoyed and bitter towards every human on the street in Trost for no significant reason. They were too loud, they walked on the wrong side of the street, their voices were annoying…he had an endless list. But now it felt different. He wanted to tune into every conversation just to catch a glimpse of what their lives were like. What was it like to be human?

With a shake of his head, Jean tried to shrug off the building desire in his chest and turned to continue his shopping. As Jean navigated the busy aisles his basket got heavier and heavier, and just as he was getting ready to call it quits a tentative hand touched his arm.

“Hi.”

Jean looked down to see a vaguely familiar girl standing beside him. Her dark blonde hair was pulled up into a ponytail and her blue eyes sought Jean out for recognition.

“I…know you from somewhere don’t I?” Jean slowly turned to give her his full attention. The longer he looked at her, the farther he seemed to get from remembering.

“I work at Harry’s. I’m his daughter.” The girl stuck out a small hand. “I’m Sophie.”

Jean shook her hand and the memory began to return to him. “That’s right you took our order!”

“Yeah you were with two other big guys.” Sophie broke into a dazzling smile. “Trying to defeat the Belly Buster.”

Jean shrugged. “’Wasn’t that hard.”

“Right.”

“I’m Jean by the way.”

“Jean.” Sophie tested the name on her tongue as if to see if she liked it.

“I’m surprised you recognized me…that was a while ago, most people would forget.” Jean tried not to let suspicion leak into his voice. He kept his attention on the price tags along the shelving units, acting as if he were searching for something in particular.

“You have the kind of face that makes it impossible to forget.” Sophie picked up a can and studied it, avoiding Jean’s pointed look at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Your face is hard to forget. I don’t know how else to explain it. Some faces are dull, yours stands out.” Sophie shrugged, mimicking Jean earlier. “Don’t be offended.”

They walked through the store together, not talking about anything in particular, simply making small chat. Jean was hoping she’d find what she needed soon so he could leave. They reached the back of the store where the coolers stood housing the ice cream and frozen dinners, and then Sophie turned her full attention on Jean.

“You’re different from everyone else.” She made it sound like an accusation.

“I get that. You told me my face was one of a kind.” Jean remarked crassly as he studied the ice cream labels through the glass.

“No. That’s not what I meant.” Sophie huffed. “You…how do I say this…you aren’t human.”

Jean paused with his hand on the door handle. He was going to have to play it out like he’d been taught to do.

“What are you talking about?” Jean laughed. “That’s kind of mean considering you’ve just met me.”

Sophie narrowed her eyes, but didn’t appear to be swayed.

“That day you and your friends saved us all from those men. They had a gun and none of you were scared in the slightest…you just fought them off like it was nothing…that wasn’t normal. Every time I ask Dad about it, he denies that it ever happened.”

Jean kept his eyes trained on the glass, watching Sophie’s reflection as she spoke. He didn’t have a response for her, but he didn’t have to worry about that; Sophie was on a roll.

“Jean I see things. Things other people can’t.”

That piqued Jean’s interest.

“Oh?”

“The light hits people the same way, but when it hits you…” Sophie frowned. “It’s not the same…it’s almost broken and fragmented…like glass; it’s not just with you, your friends are the same!”

Jean didn’t stop his look of awe in time; Sophie caught it and fed on it.

“So I was right. You’re one of them.”

“One of who?” He asked warily.

“You’re a god.” Sophie whispered, a smile stretching across her face. “I finally found a god!”

_This is dangerous_.

Jean’s instincts were working overtime; he should run away, far, far away and hide until she forgot what she knew. But Sophie sounded genuine, not only that, but to jump straight to the guess of him being a god…that meant she had information the average human should not have. He wanted to hear her out; it would help him label her has a friend or foe in his case.

“My mom was a god.” She told Jean matter-of-factly. “Is a god…I never met her though.”

Jean didn’t respond. Such a thing was possible? And Sophie was still alive?

“Dad told me she hid me from the others. But she had to leave, so he’s raised me ever since.” Sophie gestured for Jean to follow her back to the front of the store, towards the cash registers. “And your friends…I’ve recognized them from since I was a kid. They haven’t changed at all.”

“What makes you think any of this is real?”

“The look on your face says it all. I’ve known for a long time Jean, I just never found my proof.” Sophie grabbed her spot in line and whipped around to wave her finger at Jean. “And now I have my proof.”

“You know if you speak of this to anyone you’ll be killed, right?”

Sophie’s expression darkened. “I know. I want to find my mom, but I have nowhere to look. And even if I do find her I don’t want to get her in trouble…”

“If what you say does exist, and I’m not saying that it does…” Jean looked around to check his surroundings before he continued, “Your mother would want you to stay out of this and keep living under the radar.”

“Easy for you to say. I have a mother out there somewhere who I’ve never met.”

“You have a father.”

“It’s not the same.” Sophie shook her head. “I love my dad…but I want to meet her, you know?”

Jean stared back at her. He didn’t know, he would never know.

It seemed to be clear on his face; Sophie groaned, reaching in her purse to pull out her phone.

“Add your number.”

Jean took the sleek phone into his hand and punched in the digits along with his name. As he handed it back to her, Sophie was called up to the register, signaling the end of their conversation.

“I’ll text you later!” Sophie called over her shoulder. Jean snorted; he didn’t really care what she did, but he had a feeling that she would run into trouble sooner or later with that mouth of hers. That had been the first time someone had bluntly called him a god to his face; usually people just suspected something unusual or dangerous about him. It appeared Sophie was different. She was a half-god. Jean wasn’t aware that they still existed; there was a time where the higher gods swept the world, hunting down every half-god born and choosing to either turn them into soldiers or slaughter them on the spot. It was an extermination mission, ridding the world of anything that could threaten to reveal a god’s presence; not only that, but having a child with a human was also considered a sin. It was normally committed by men coming to seduce human women, but a god giving birth to a child and managing to hide it away? That was something new. Jean could only wonder who Sophie’s mother truly was, and where was she now?

Jean ended up getting checked out before Sophie was finished, and as he passed her on his way out the door he gave her one last look. She looked like any other human. She didn’t give off a different vibe or smell weird; there was no physical indication that she was mixed with anything. But this would be an elaborate lie to tell in the first place, Jean had to believe that Sophie was telling the truth.

Just as he managed to push that thought away, another building concern decided to barge its way in instead.

What exactly was he coming home to?

There was a fifty-fifty chance that Marco was there, but even if he was, what was their relationship now?

Jean bit back a curse as he trudged his way home. He had fucked up. He finally had what he wanted, but now it was slipping through his fingers again‒all because he couldn’t control his seemingly never-ending desire. He wanted Marco to fill the void in his chest that had been there for as long as he could remember, but he had to understand that the hole would never be filled. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried, he would always feel empty.

In a way, Marco was doing the same. Jean didn’t feel like he was being used, mostly because he was in the same boat, but he understood that something was happening to Marco and he was trying to compensate by occupying himself with other things. So be it, but Jean didn’t even know if he could look Marco in the eye anymore after what happened last night.

“What did happen last night?” Jean muttered to himself as he stepped into the apartment and began his ascent up the stairs. He remembered basic things like the fight, making out in the middle of the bar, taking a cab home and going upstairs…but after that things got fuzzy. It wasn’t the first time this kind of thing had happened to him, but it was certainly the first time he truly cared what the consequence of his actions were.

Jean slowly pushed open the door to his apartment and stepped inside. He kicked off his shoes and padded down the quiet hallway and into the kitchen where he set down his bag of groceries on the counter. He didn’t know why he was holding his breath, but when he heard footsteps approaching he shakily blew it out.

Marco came around the corner, his hair spiky and glistening with water and a towel resting on his shoulders. He wore the same thing as yesterday; that polo and jeans, but something about this Marco was different.

Last night Marco’s eyes were intense and raw, displaying every emotion across them as if they needed to be seen and judged, but now…

Marco’s eyes showed nothing. They were eerily vacant as he met Jean’s, and it almost made Jean wonder if he had made the whole thing up in his mind.

“Hey…” Marco swiped a finger under his nose shyly as he greeted him.

“Hey.” Jean cleared this throat, trying to ignore the burn in his cheeks as he attempted to maintain eye contact. He failed, dropping his gaze to the floor to stare at his socks. “’M glad you stayed…”

Marco blinked at him in surprise. He fully emerged from the living room and padded down the hallway to meet Jean in the kitchen.

“I couldn’t just ignore your letter.” Marco leaned against the counter. “I used your shower, I hope that’s okay.”

“No that’s fine.” Jean turned to occupy himself by taking out the ingredients he bought. He just couldn’t look at Marco without wanting to catch on fire; he hated the fact that he wanted Marco to cross the small gap of space and touch him again. “…Are you hungry? I bought food.”

“I was worried that you weren’t eating…your fridge is a little…” Marco pulled himself up on the counter to sit; Jean could feel his gaze burning into the side of his head. “But yeah I could eat.”

“Cool.”

They fell into silence after that. Jean put things in their proper places, strategically avoiding Marco as he did so. The silence was awkward; Jean didn’t know what to say or what to do. Marco was here like the selfish and naïve part of him wanted, but there was both too much and too little for Jean to say to him.

He focused his attention on chopping the ingredients for an omelet. He kept the movements of the knife swift and efficient, commanding his hands not to shake and give away his inner turmoil. Marco scrolled through his phone, but stopped once he saw Jean beginning to prepare the food.

“Do you want any help?”

“Nah, I gotta do this on my own.” Jean told him and quickly went back to his chopping. He wanted this awkward moment to end. _Please make it end_.

Marco set his phone down and changed the tone of his voice.

“Jean.”

Jean didn’t look up. He kept chopping and hoped his facial expression didn’t give him away.

“ _Jean._ ”

“Yeah?”

“We need to talk.” Marco said. “About a lot of things.”

Jean swallowed. It was the conversation he was dreading. This was where Marco would say he regretted what happened and left, that things would never be the same again.

“Yeah…”

“Can you look at me?”

Jean dragged his eyes from the cutting board to Marco’s face. His eyes weren’t as empty as they had first been, but Marco had his emotions hidden; for some reason he had set up his defenses and put up a wall that couldn’t be seen through.

Marco’s eyes roamed Jean’s face before he spoke again.

“About last night…” he began slowly, “do you–”

Loud pounding echoed through the apartment, interrupting Marco mid-sentence. Jean pretended to ignore it, knowing full well what the source of the noise was, but when the knocking grew louder Marco gave Jean a concerned look.

“Dammit.” Jean hissed. He passed Marco and stomped down the hallway to throw open the front door.

“Reiner, what do you want‒” Jean’s words died on his tongue. Reiner swiped a hand over his eyes quickly, but Jean could see the streaks of tears down his face. Jean’s tone switched automatically to concern. “Reiner what happened?”

“I’m sorry if I’m interrupting you from something.” He said quietly. He rubbed at his eyes again, but gave up once he realized the tears weren’t going to stop. Jean let him in and Reiner walked into the living room sniffing. “I can’t cry in front of Bert…it’ll just make things worse.”

“Reiner—”

“I told him I was going to buy celery Jean!” Reiner’s hands knotted through his hair as he shouted at the ceiling in despair, “I don’t even eat celery! No one fucking eats celery!”

Jean waited a few seconds before trying again. “Reiner what’s going on?”

“I just…” Reiner stared at the popcorn ceiling and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t understand why this is happening to us Jean.”

This was the new Reiner. The man who cried during both war documentaries and romantic comedies, someone who dreaded fighting the most out of anyone Jean had ever known. If Reiner could paint the world in pink and cover it with flowers and bunnies, he’d do it. Yet here he was, about to be thrust into another mess that he was supposed to be made for; Reiner took it hard every time. Being around Bert must have been too difficult; he still wasn’t too skilled at keeping his emotions in check, and if Bert were to see him like this he’d panic even more.

Jean slowly moved to the couch, leaning his elbows on the spine. He lowered his voice to a near whisper.

“You mean this war? I don’t know man, some things just happen.”

Reiner’s eyes quickly went to Jean’s. They shared an almost telepathic conversation about _how someone is here and they can’t know what’s going on._

Reiner blinked, his eyes still bloodshot, but a smirk nonetheless spread across his face.

“Hi Marco!” he shouted.

Jean glared back at him.

“How the hell do you know it’s Marco?”

Reiner gestured to his neck. “Jean I’m also the god of love and I know when someone gets laid.”

Jean blanched back at him.

“And you have a nice display of hickeys on your neck.”

Jean clapped a hand reflexively over his neck in horror.

“Is that why you were looking at me like that?”

“The whole world was looking at you like that.” Reiner rolled his eyes, but his expression softened more when Marco walked into the room. “Marco!”

“Hey Reiner‒” Marco was cut short when Reiner pulled him into a massive bear hug; Jean hoped Reiner wouldn’t crush Marco in his killer grip.

As bad as he felt for thinking it, Jean was almost grateful for Reiner’s appearance. He wanted to know more than anything what Marco was thinking, but at the same time he wasn’t ready to be shot down. He didn’t want things to end.

_But we’re going to war_.

Everyone was acting as if this was their final rodeo. The shock hadn’t hit Jean as hard…not yet. He didn’t feel like he had much to lose; yeah he finally found someone he wanted to be around, but other than that what did he have? He held no connections anywhere else; he didn’t have any more obligations to fulfill. But what if these were truly his final days on Earth? Could he say that he accomplished something? That he was “the person he wanted to be”? Maybe two hundred years was too short of a time.

Reiner and Marco had launched into a conversation of their own, but as Jean started to tune into it, he didn’t like what he was hearing.

“So what were you two up to?” Reiner had his arm draped around Marco’s shoulders, replacing the towel he had there earlier.

“Jean’s cooking for me.” Marco didn’t glance in Jean’s direction as he normally did when he said his name.

“I knew there was a reason he hurried home after the meeting was over.” That was a lie. For one, Reiner and Bert left before he had, and secondly, Jean detoured to the grocery store before even going home.

That made Marco look at Jean in curiosity.

“Did you spend the night?” Reiner raised his eyebrows as he leaned closer. “What did you guys do last night?”

“We just went out for some drinks…”

“Don’t lie to me Marco.” Reiner’s voice dipped dangerously low as he purred at him. “You got laid, didn’t you?”

“Reiner go out in the hall.” Jean nearly shouted, making Marco jump.

Reiner gave Jean a curious look before he shrugged at Marco and stepped out the front door.

“Give me a second.” Jean told Marco before following Reiner into the hall, shutting the door behind him.

“Reiner, what the hell?”

“I’m just messing around Jean.” Reiner broke into a broad smile. “It was only a matter of time before this happened…which means I won the bet…” the last part was muttered under Reiner’s breath, and Jean pretended to not hear it.

“Look it’s complicated between us right now okay? I’d appreciate if you didn’t make it even more awkward than it already is!”

Reiner blinked at him as the smile slipped off his face.

“You two had drunk sex…” Reiner raised his arms to rest them behind his head. “Oh no, no Jean that’s so not romantic!”

“Well sorry the world doesn’t work that way Reiner!” Jean hissed back. “I don’t know what to do!”

“Confess your love and have real sex, that’s what you do!”

Jean groaned. There was no way he could get it through Reiner’s fat head that it wasn’t that simple. Why couldn’t the god of Love give better advice?

“Look Jean.” Reiner’s voice took a serious turn. “I could pick up the weird vibes when I walked in, I know something’s up. So I’ll tell you what, you let me stick around for a couple of hours and I promise to make this whole experience a lot less awkward than it already is.”

“You can do that?”

“I promise you I can do that.” Reiner crossed his arms against his broad chest and smiled angelically. “I love Marco, he loves me. Maybe we can have a threesome and get over our woes‒”

“LEAVE.”

“Jean give me a break!” Reiner cackled and gave Jean a light shove out of the way so he could step inside. That ‘light shove’ was strong enough to launch him against the wall and knock the wind out of him. He stood there for a while, massaging his chest in circles as he braced himself to walk back into that apartment. He was putting off the inevitable again, using Reiner as his own emotional shield to avoid his responsibilities. He could blame everything on the letter he left. Although it was so simple, even Jean could feel his desperation through the words.

_Had to run out, I’ll be right back._

_Please wait for me._

It was only a matter of time before everything came back around to bite him.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realize it’s been a while since the last update for this…college has been rough, lots of work and stress and drama. Anyways I finally had time to finish the editing for this tonight, but I’m not sure how long it’ll be before I have time to get to the next chapter. Thank you all so much for your kind comments, as always, we appreciate hearing your thoughts! Thanks for reading!  
> ^^^  
> Thank you guys for all of your support and love!  
> We're starting to get into the good hearty dark stuff, so I'm really excited about the next updates! I love Reiner so much it's ridiculous, but he is known for ruining things...anyway, the next chapter is kind of a doozy (is that how you spell it?) so I hope you look forward to it! I mean, what good could come from Eren taking some of the boys out for a movie night?


	12. Suffering

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> War is on the horizon, but all Jean wants to do is forget. Humans seem to have it so much easier…with the exception of one, the one closest to Jean’s heart.

Jean wished he could skip the war and just fade out of existence.

It had been a week since Jean had last seen–or heard from–Marco and Jean had reached a conclusion on his own. He and Marco were never going back to what they used to be.

He didn’t know if it was something to be sad about. Perhaps his luck had run out long ago, if he had any in the first place, and he just never noticed. Marco was changing on his own; it had nothing to do with him or what he did. Marco had a lot of things to deal with; he had problems that he needed to solve. If Marco didn’t reach out to him, Jean remained silent.

He sat on his couch, wrapped in blankets and submerged in darkness while he made his way through yet another TV series. He couldn’t remember the last time he had moved, let alone eaten; had it been hours or days?

His phone was only background noise. He let it ring without bothering to check it, what was the point? None of the calls or messages were going to be from who he wanted to hear from.

Jean could feel himself sinking into the same pattern he always did. He lost his motivation to do anything; the outdoors no longer appealed to him. If he could stay in this room like this until it was time to fight, he would have no complaints. Losing track of time was dangerous, but it was also so easy. Time didn’t hold any meaning; it was just something to keep people organized.

 

He didn’t even react when his front door was thrown open.

As loud footsteps approached him, Jean slowly looked up to see a big man towering over him. He was half expecting a bag to be thrown over his head and a stab to the gut, but nothing happened.

“Jean.” Reiner knelt in front of him, successfully blocking Jean’s view of the TV. Jean wrinkled his nose in annoyance; had he forgotten to lock the door or did Reiner break it again? “Why don’t you answer our calls?”

“You’ve been calling?” Jean asked, feigning innocence in a monotone he couldn’t seem to get out of.

Reiner searched his face for something while his own expression pulled into what looked like concern. He put a large hand on Jean’s shoulder and breathed out a heavy sigh.

“It’s not healthy to be staying in here for so long…not now.”

“I’m doing fine.” Jean burrowed deeper into his blanket. “Don’t act like you don’t do it.”

“We should be spending time with each other.” Reiner’s soft tone made it feel like he was explaining things to a child. It was annoying, whether Reiner knew he was doing it or not.

“I’d rather be alone.”

Reiner stood up and headed back towards the front door. For a minute, Jean thought he was going to give up and leave, but of course it wouldn’t be that easy. Reiner picked up Jean’s shoes and brought them to him.

“Put your shoes on, we’re going out.”

Jean considered his choices. He could play stubborn and try to piss Reiner off enough to leave him alone, he could say no and be brought against his will, or he could go on his own volition and save whatever dignity he had left. Jean chose the latter.

With a defeated sigh, he shrugged out of his man-made cocoon to put on his shoes. Reiner waited patiently; he walked around the apartment as he did so, picking up things off the floor and putting them in the garbage before turning off the TV. He linked an arm through Jean’s and nearly dragged him out the door, only allowing Jean to lock it behind them.

“Where are you taking me?” Jean tried to sound interested, but honestly he could care less where the giant was taking him. They stepped out into the cool summer evening air, but instead of walking down the sidewalk, Reiner led them to the large black SUV parked on the street in front of them.

Jean took in the dark tinted windows and overly flashy tires with another surge of annoyance. He could recognize that fucking car anywhere because it haunted him in his dreams. That car belonged to none other than–

The passenger windows rolled down, allowing the loud bass to escape into the air, and a particular disheveled boy grinned at them.

“Get in bitches we’re going shopping!”

Jean directed his lethal glare at Eren instead of the car. Connie leaned forward to wave at him, his own forced smile plastered on his face. It looked like Jean wasn’t the only one dragged out against his will.

Reiner tightened his grip on Jean’s arm, as if he could sense Jean’s flight reflexes, and forced him through the open back door. He didn’t bother trying to resist him; Jean didn’t have enough energy to fight someone twice his size.

Just like that, he was surrounded by the ear splitting music that blasted out of Eren’s new stereo system and submerged into the social setting he’d been trying to avoid. The dark exterior and leather seats felt more like a prison than a car.

“I’m glad you got the Grinch out of hiding.” Eren turned to give Reiner a thumbs up. Connie just shook his head in what looked like defeat.

“I can’t believe you just referenced that.”

“Leave me alone.” Eren grumbled as he put the car in drive. “It wouldn’t have sounded as cool if I said we’re going to the movies.”

Connie shrugged and fell silent, bobbing his head to the song as if he knew it.

No one talked for the rest of the ride to the theater. Instead of choosing the one near them, Eren decided to drive all the way to the outskirts of the Stohess district; the theater was ridiculously large and flashy, it was something Jean had only seen on TV.

“This place has the reclining seats and everything!” Eren told them as they hopped out of the car and made their way to the entrance.

“Yeah and I bet the tickets are a hundred dollars each.”

“It’s worth it.” Eren nearly ran ahead to get to the front desk first. Jean could only watch him in irritation. Since when was Eren the one with the most enthusiasm?

Reiner nudged him ahead. When Jean whipped around to narrow his eyes at him, Reiner only gave him a bright smile.

 

 

No matter how fancy the theater was, it didn’t justify how expensive the movie tickets were. Everyone except Eren grumbled about the prices as they approached the concession stands.

Eren gestured to the popcorn stand with his ticket and a cocky smile. “Once you get your ticket you get free concessions! I told you it was worth it!”

Connie’s hand absentmindedly went to his stomach as he read the signs. He wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

“I could get twenty buckets of popcorn and it still wouldn’t add up to the ticket…”

“Let’s just fill up guys.” Reiner finally left Jean’s side to join the others in grabbing food. Reiner ordered four buckets of popcorn, only to force Jean to carry two of them, while Connie ordered popcorn and enough candy to supply a house for Halloween. Eren was no better–his diet seemed to consist of nachos and blue ICEEs, nothing else.

While Jean waited for the group to reassemble, he was surprised to see Eren stand beside him.

“What’s got you so down horse-face?” Eren’s sea-green eyes didn’t hold their usual mocking glint. They held a different emotion Jean couldn’t place, but he could tell that this was the calmest Eren had ever been.  There were no swirls of annoyance or destructiveness in his eyes. “Not normal for you to be angrier than I am.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Jean huffed as he balanced the popcorn buckets in his grip. The last thing he needed was to drop them.

“Sure it does.” Eren’s eyes landed on Reiner and Connie in line. “Everyone’s worried about you.”

“Why? Shouldn’t you all be worrying about yourselves?”

Something tinted Eren’s features. His mouth quirked up a little at the remark; he took a long sip out of his frozen drink and scowled at the straw.

“Of course. But given we might not have a lot of time left together, we thought it would be a good idea to have as much fun with each other as we can while we have the chance, you know? Reiner and I thought that the movies would be an easy way to do that.”

“What about the others?”

“They’re busy.” Eren’s reply was quick. His eyes flicked back up to Jean’s. “Just…try to smile tonight yeah? It’s not all bad.”

The others joined them before Jean could make a crass response. He figured it was better that way, because maybe, and it was a big maybe…Eren was right.

So Jean followed the rest into their designated screening area. Even though the movie was going to start in less than five minutes, the rest of the seats were empty.

“Awesome!” Eren shouted, startling Connie enough for him to drop a couple of kernels of popcorn. “We get the theater to ourselves!”

Reiner rolled his eyes and led the way down an aisle. Jean settled himself between Reiner and Connie, there was no way he could sit through an entire movie next to Eren without hitting him in the face. He shrunk down into the red seat, setting the two buckets on the pull out tables each seat came with.

Reiner did the same and began to fidget with his seat. Suddenly, Reiner went completely horizontal and his giggling filled the empty theater.

“These seats are amazing! Is this what technology can do now?!”

Connie glanced at Reiner in awe. It didn’t take long for Connie to figure it out, and soon he was lying low.

Jean reclined his seat to an appropriate angle and chose a bucket of popcorn to keep in his lap for the movie. The lights dimmed until they were all in darkness and the trailers began; a particular bright light to his right made Jean look over to see Eren snickering at his phone.

He would be that asshole.

“Eren turn that shit off!” Connie hissed at him. He threw a handful of popcorn that somehow managed to land perfectly in Eren’s dark hair. He didn’t bother shaking it out; he simply turned off his phone and began to pick at his hair, eating each kernel as he did so.

As Jean waited for the movie to start, he realized he didn’t even know what the name of the movie was, let alone what it was about. He turned to tap Reiner on the shoulder.

“What’s the name of the movie?”

Reiner finished chewing the handful of popcorn he’d shoved in his mouth.

“It’s called ‘Put Yourself in My Shoes’.” Reiner replied. A few groups of people entered the theater as he spoke and dispersed around them. Eren groaned loudly in annoyance.

“Sounds deep.” Jean remarked.

“It’s supposed to be?” Reiner chuckled and it came out a little dark. Jean cast him a wary look before going back to his popcorn. The opening credits began and Jean braced himself for the movie.

 

 

Jean couldn’t tell what kind of movie they were watching. At first, the movie gave the impression that it would be sad–with a tragic death scene only ten minutes into the film–but even that was ruined by Eren’s cackling.

“It’s not supposed to be funny!” Reiner tried to hit Eren with his popcorn and only succeeded in nailing Jean in the eye.

The more the film progressed, and the more characters died, the funnier it got to Eren. At one point he had to get up and leave because he couldn’t control his laughter. Once he was gone, Jean thought it would get quieter, but the next person to stop taking the movie seriously was Reiner. In the scene where a couple confessed their love, Reiner broke into muffled laughter before stuffing his face with more popcorn.

Jean didn’t get it.

Was the film actually funny and he was missing something, or was everyone else having a mental breakdown?

He figured it could be both, but nonetheless he crossed his arms tightly across his chest and sulked through the movie, ignoring Reiner’s muffled laughter and Connie’s snores when he managed to fall asleep. Eren returned with only twenty minutes left and an even larger drink in his hand, along with a bag of candy. He tucked himself back into his seat and managed to stay quiet for the remainder of the film, stuffing his face with gummy bears to hide his stupid remarks.

 

 

Jean watched the credits roll down the screen with tired eyes. He didn’t know what to think of it, let alone how to feel. Reiner had managed to go from laughing to crying in less than five minutes; he scrubbed at his eyes vigorously to get rid of his tears before the lights came back on. Eren elbowed Connie until he snapped awake, knocking over a half-empty bucket of popcorn onto the floor.

“That movie sucked!” Eren said a little too loudly, earning some grunts from the people behind them.

“Shut up Eren it had its moments!” Reiner dusted himself off and rose to his feet. They all gathered their things and left the theater, arguing amongst themselves as they stepped outside. Jean cast his gaze up to the sky and took a deep breath. As annoyed as he was, it seemed like coming outside had done him some good. Feeling the cool summer wind blow through his hair was more refreshing than burying himself in hot blankets surrounded by the air conditioning. Listening to his friends bicker was better than blankly watching TV until he’d fall asleep.

“Can we just appreciate something?” Eren held up his slushies to get their attention. “The last time Jean and I sat together in a movie theater, he burned it down and I almost got arrested! I think we’ve grown up a little!”

“Say that a little closer to Jean, Eren.” Connie snickered. “The second you get close enough he’s gonna throttle you.”

That was enough to make Jean smile. It was small, but he could feel it. Eren eyed him with a wary smile before unlocking the car doors.

“Climb in guys!”

 

 

 

They drove back into the city with Eren’s windows rolled down and his questionable rap music booming through the car. Eren sped around corners and went through yellow lights as if they were nothing; they nearly avoided crashing more times than Jean would prefer.

Jean counted down the moments until he could go home and crawl back onto his couch, in the comfort and safety of his own dark apartment. But when Eren zoomed past his apartment and turned onto the neighboring street, Jean’s excitement dwindled away. He didn’t say anything at first, instead he tried to figure out where they were being taken to.

Reiner wore a matching look of confusion as Eren took them farther away from their homes and into the Shiganshina District. The district was one of the most run-down and abandoned places in the city, known for its drug dens and empty lots.  Jean couldn’t remember the last time he’d been in Shiganshina, and he figured that was a good thing.

“Dude, where are you going?” Connie was the first to speak up. He rolled up his window as they passed by a suspicious group of people gathered on one of the corners.

“I just gotta pick something up. I’ll be fast.” Eren turned onto a smaller dirt path; they rumbled along past run down trailers and boarded up houses. Old lots were overgrown with weeds and littered with garbage. With the sun down the place looked twice as dangerous as it did in the daylight.

Eventually Eren pulled into the driveway that belonged to an old ranch house. Jean peered out the window, taking in the broken windows blocked with wood and the graffiti that ran up the side of the house, which was more prominent than the peeling paint job. There weren’t any lights on, if anyone were to drive by they would assume the house was completely abandoned.

“I’ll be back!” Eren put the car in park and left with the keys in the ignition.

Reiner took a slow look at their surroundings and proceeded to roll up the rest of the windows. He sighed and pulled out his phone, the bright light from his screen illuminated the scowl on his face.

They sat in silence for five minutes, all of them on their phones, until Connie turned in his seat to look at Reiner and Jean.

“I swear if Eren dragged us here for drugs I’m going to kill him.”

“Is that what this is about?” Reiner growled as he typed out a text message. “Couldn’t he do this on his own?”

“I mean, I’ve known that he’s doing drugs, but I think he’s dealing too. And it’s gotten bad lately, Armin’s really worried…”

Jean dropped his chin in his hand. That explained why Eren was Mr. Nice Guy all of a sudden. Drugs could do that; that meant he was trying to calm down his otherwise rampant behavior, but why?

Reiner just shook his head, pushing his phone back into his pocket just as the front door to the house was thrown open.

“EREN YOU PIECE OF SHIT!” A loud voice boomed from inside the house and was followed by four loud cracks into the air. Eren dashed out and leaped off the porch, full on sprinting back towards the car.

“Were those gunshots?!” Connie’s eyes widened in fear and he ducked down in his seat. Jean figured it was more out of reflex than concern for his safety…Jean couldn’t care less if a bullet came at him, it couldn’t hurt any of them in the first place.

Eren threw open the door and jumped into his seat. He tossed a brown paper bag into Connie’s lap and put the car in reverse. He glanced over his shoulder as he whipped the car out of the driveway as quickly as he could, despite the tires’ struggle to find traction on the gravel. Jean took in the clear packet Eren had clenched between his teeth as he maneuvered the car back onto the street.

There was more shouting as men emerged from the house, the largest of them pointed a rifle at the car.

“Holy shit Eren!” Connie screeched as a bullet went through his window. The glass shattered over him with a loud bang.

As they peeled away and down the street, another shot blew out the back windshield, showering Jean and Reiner with glass.

“EREN WHAT DID YOU DO?!” Reiner shouted as they screeched onto one of the main roads. Eren didn’t answer; his attention seemed to be getting away from the gunshots that were slowly fading behind them. Reiner was starting to lose his temper; he took off his seat belt and leaned into the driver’s seat to put a fist in Eren’s hair. The car took a dangerous swerve to the right, throwing most of Reiner’s weight into Jean. To avoid being crushed, Jean pushed Reiner back into place with strength he forgot he had.

“REINER WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” Eren spat out the packet and smacked at his hand while he tried to regain control of the wheel.

Jean could picture them spinning out of control and ending up in a ditch.

Instead they drifted left and directly into incoming traffic.

“Would you two stop?! I don’t want to crash!” Connie took control of the wheel while Reiner and Eren fought, smacking each other from across the seat while Connie tried to keep the car in a straight line. They blew past a red light as if it weren’t there.

Jean closed his eyes. He couldn’t get annoyed now. That irking, prickling sensation in the back of his neck wasn’t enough to get them killed, but it would put them in a predicament Jean didn’t want to deal with. So he tried to tune them out; even as their shouting, swearing, and screaming filled the car. It was only a matter of time before they heard sirens, or even crashed. The prickling intensified until Jean could hear only white noise; it drowned out the chaos in the car and suspended him in momentary silence. He couldn’t call it a peaceful silence, it was as if his mind had tuned out despite everything, and as the sounds came rushing back the only thing Jean wanted was for everything to just _stop_.

 His eyes snapped open in time for him to watch them veer towards the main street at over seventy miles per hour.

“EVERYONE SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Jean exploded. Several things happened at once: Reiner and Eren froze, Eren hit the brakes, Connie whipped the wheel hard enough to send them spinning out of control, and then the engine to the car shut off with a gurgled cry. The car tires screeched against the pavement as the car skidded onto the curb, broke through a chain-link fence, and came to a rolling stop just at the entrance to the park. A light post Jean didn’t remember them hitting fell inches away from the car, smashing apart and scattering sparks into the grass.

They watched in silence as the grass caught on fire.

Reiner released his grip on Eren’s hair and dropped back into his seat, dumbfounded as he watched the fire spread.

“Unbelievable.” Connie hissed as he kicked open his door, knocking out shards of glass as he did so. He rummaged through the glove compartment before jumping out of the car. Reiner followed him; the two proceeded to douse the fire with the water left in their water bottles, dancing around the flames before they could reach them.

Jean threw open his door in frustration as Eren gathered his things up and tested the engine. It wouldn’t start again.

_All of this is my fault_.

It was a line Jean was used to hearing from himself. He could only watch as Connie and Reiner tried, and failed, to put out the fire he’d started. Reiner pulled out his phone and called the fire department; as the phone dialed, he turned to Connie.

“Con call an Uber, I’m fucking done with this.”

“On it.” Connie walked off in the opposite direction, typing the information into his phone.

The flames were pretty impressive. They were small little tendrils that had managed to multiply in both size and area in less than thirty seconds. They raced towards the playground as if they were being guided there.

Eren slammed his door and moved to survey the damage to his car. He pursed his lips and had the nerve to lick his thumb and scrub at one of the scratches on the door. He had more than a few scratches to worry about.

“Were the drugs worth it?” Jean asked him. Eren glanced at him and straightened up. With a sly smile, he pulled out the clear packet and brought it to his nose.

“Always.” He murmured. “Thanks to you guys, I have to get my baby towed though.”

“Fuck off Eren, your car should’ve ended up in a ditch.” Jean made his way towards the main street, tucking his hands into his pockets and shaking off the remainders of glass.

“Jean, where are you going?” Reiner called after him just as he started to cross the street.

“I’m going to walk home. It’s only a couple of blocks.” Jean turned on his heels and walked away. Away from the car, away from the responsibility, and away from the conflict. It seemed strange things happened when they all got together, but Jean could say something for sure.

He would’ve been better off staying at home.

 

 

 

 

 

Jean knew how it felt to want to be left alone.

Sometimes that disconnect allowed for inflection and relaxation; there was no forced interaction or conversation needed to fill the silence. But sometimes being left alone was the worst possible thing to do. Jean had spent his time moping and complaining about why his friends had dragged him outside, but now it was time for him to admit that it did him some good. As annoyed as he felt then, he definitely felt better now…or at least, more able to function than he had been before.

He knew Marco was in a slump too, perhaps much deeper than Jean’s, but he was stuck in it nonetheless. Jean wanted to be the one to dig him out of it, but he didn’t know how. He couldn’t pick Marco up in a car and drive him somewhere; he wasn’t as spontaneous as Eren nor did he want to repeat that night’s events, he just needed to do something. But he didn’t know what that “something” was.

And Marco was ignoring him.

Jean spammed his inbox all through the night and into the morning. The more messages he sent, the less he cared about how annoying he was being.

With a piece of toast clenched between his teeth and a glass of orange juice balanced on his knee, Jean typed out the millionth message to Marco, this one a little angrier than the others. That was at eleven in the morning, and Marco didn’t reply until four in the afternoon.

The notification sound sent Jean leaping out of his seat to scramble for his phone and squint at the message. Marco agreed to meet him at the café. He actually agreed to see him. Today.

As Jean raised his hands above his head in disbelief, another rain cloud came to hover over his head.

Now what?

How was he going to dig him out? Jean didn’t know how to make people feel better, that was Connie and Reiner’s job.

Jean threw on his shoes nonetheless and made his way out the door. It didn’t matter how he was going to do it, because he had to do it. This was his job as Marco’s friend and he owed the guy that much. He hoped Marco still considered him a friend, but then again he ran away from the conversation that probably would have made things clearer. Jean knew he had to stop running; not simply from Marco, but from everything, and if he couldn’t do that he’d never move forward.

So Jean walked to the café, the same one they had first met in almost four months ago. The same sign stood out against the cobblestone building, listing the specials along with the owner’s signature doodles in the corner of the chalkboard. The interior still had a calm atmosphere, filled with the scent of brewing coffee and steeping tea, but Jean’s nerves refused to still as he maneuvered through the shop towards the familiar man seated near the back windows.

It felt like a flashback to when Marco called him in a panic, claiming he needed company to keep him held together. This was something else, this was Jean needing Marco’s company to keep _him_ together, but he needed the old Marco back, the happy one. And he knew this was naïve, because as he approached Marco at the table and took in the contrasts to the day they first officially met, things were becoming clear.

The sun didn’t reflect off of him in the dazzling and almost-obnoxious way it had before, he didn’t radiate that positivity Jean had originally wanted to shy away from. Marco was suspended in darkness, and the worst part was that it was all emanating from the inside; from where he stood, Jean could see how consuming it was, whatever was haunting Marco had manifested into its strongest form. It had sunk its fangs in deep and it didn’t want to let go; it was enough to make Jean hesitate at the table before sitting down, his doubts had doubled in the amount of time it took him to walk inside.

Marco slowly looked up from his coffee. He had his head cupped in his hand and even though it was such a natural waiting stance, it made Marco look even more worn down and tired.

“Hey.” Jean offered as he lowered himself into his chair.

“Hi.” Marco replied quietly.

“How are you?” Jean knew it was a stupid question, but he needed a start for this conversation.

“I’m okay.”

Of course Marco was going to lie to him to keep himself together.

Jean reached over to take Marco’s coffee. He knew Marco hadn’t made a move to touch it, and it was nowhere near hot anymore.

“You’re not okay.” He murmured before taking a sip.

Marco watched him with a lazy stare and didn’t say a word. He must have assumed Jean’s reasons for dragging him out, and Jean could see the walls of defense Marco had thrown up to protect himself. Jean wished he wouldn’t try so hard.

“I’m really worried about you.” Jean stared into the dark roast coffee, wishing he could find the answers to their problems written like letters in alphabet soup instead of just ripples on the surface. “And I haven’t seen you in a while so…”

“You’ve been worried.” Marco exhaled through his nose and cast his gaze out the window. “Yeah I know, I’m sorry…there’s been a lot going on, and I’m _trying_ -” Marco pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut as if he were in physical pain. A flash of pain tore through Jean’s gut at the same moment, a brief reminder of what he’d been trying to forget. It turned out Jean was right; he had suspected for a long time that he was more connected to Marco than he thought, they had reached the point where Jean was feeling his pain as if it were his own. And Marco’s pain was excruciating.

Jean chewed on the inside of his cheek as he waited. He didn’t know what he was waiting for, was it for the pain to dissipate? For better words to pop into his mind?

“You can talk to me you know.” Jean finally said. He took another sip of coffee and frowned at its lukewarm temperature.

Marco massaged his temples slowly and opened his eyes.

“Family can drive you insane.” He chuckled softly, but Jean couldn’t tell if it was authentic or not. “Everything is just too complicated right now…”

“I get it, it’s okay.” Jean nodded even though it was only half true. He didn’t understand family conflicts, but he did know how it felt to keep things away from others. Jean was keeping over two hundred years from Marco, he knew complicated. “I just hate seeing you like this.”

“I’m sorry.”

It was the one thing Jean didn’t want to hear. He didn’t want apologies, especially over something that was out of Marco’s control. Why would he apologize? It wasn’t his fault; his suffering wasn’t his fault. Jean wondered if it was a human thing; shifting the blame onto themselves in order to make the situation better didn’t work.

“Don’t apologize…just don’t suffer on your own.” Jean muttered. He didn’t look up to see Marco’s expression, nor did Marco respond. They sat in silence for a while; listening to the music that filtered out of the stereos along the walls and watching different customers file in and out. It wasn’t a comfortable silence like they used to have with one another, this was heavy and awkward. Jean tried to fill the gap by telling him the shenanigans Eren had dragged him into the night before. He didn’t have to exaggerate the events to make them dramatic, and he stressed the fact that his friend was a drug dealer without him even knowing it.

Marco quirked up an eyebrow, but otherwise didn’t look too surprised.

“I don’t think I’ve met Eren face to face…he’s the angry looking guy with the green eyes right?”

Jean snorted.

“Exactly. You probably haven’t met him because he’s a fucking asshole and ruins everyone’s mood.”

“And you two are friends?”

“No. I’m just forced to be civil with him for everyone else’s benefit.” Jean huffed. Whenever they clashed it caused more harm than good, so he did his best to avoid him as much as possible.

Marco made a sound of understanding before looking out the window again. Jean was losing him, and in a strange way it felt like he and Marco had switched places.

When they had first met in this coffee shop, Marco had reeled him in and thrusted himself into Jean’s personal space as if he knew him before. When Jean wasn’t participating in the conversation, Marco filled it and kept him in it as if the words came to him naturally. Marco was better at talking than him. He had more to talk about and had a better personality, he made Jean want to talk to him and stay in that coffee shop until the sun went down and everyone went home. The longer they sat together, the more Jean came to realize that the Marco he had met that day was gone. There was no more sunshine and rainbows and brilliant smiles with bubbling laughter.

“I’m being annoying, aren’t I?” Jean let out a defeated sigh and pushed away the coffee. He’d managed to drink half of it before it had gone completely cold.

Marco seemed to snap out of whatever trance he’d been in and sat bolt upright in his chair.

“Annoying? What? No–Jean you’re not annoying me!” Jean found the way Marco fluttered around kind of adorable. It was like waking someone up from the dead, in a weird way. “I’m grateful that you’re spending time with me even when I’m not the best company right now...”

“Really?”

“Yes, really!” Marco nodded. Jean narrowed his eyes and stared him down, but Marco’s gaze didn’t waver.

“Then come over for a little while.”

“Come over?” Marco asked, his eyebrows knitting together.

“Yeah, you said family problems so that probably means you don’t wanna go home right away.” Jean pushed out of his seat without waiting for his response. He had a feeling he knew what was going through Marco’s mind. “I know we have a lot to talk about, but we have time to do that later. We’ll just hang out.”

He felt relieved when he heard Marco’s chair drag against the floor and footsteps follow him out of the café. Marco joined him on the sidewalk and the two walked down the street towards Jean’s apartment.

As they approached the door, Jean’s lip curled up in annoyance as he saw who was stepping out with a cat carrier in hand.

“Ew look what finally crawled out of its nest.” Jean groaned.

“This crow has wings stupid boy.” Ling hummed back without turning to look at them. Once she properly shut the door she gave Jean the same dirty look she always did. Her eyes went to Marco and widened remarkably large. “Oh? New boyfriend?”

Marco looked at Jean in confusion. Jean didn’t look at him directly; he kept him in his peripheral view to watch his reaction.

“Yeah and I bet he’s better than your sixty cats! Speaking of which, is that one of ‘em? Did it die yet?”

Ling cackled as she turned away. She shouted something back to him in what sounded like Chinese and waved as she walked down the street in the opposite direction.

“What was that…?” Marco asked hesitantly as Jean unlocked the front door. “That was kind of mean…”

“Don’t let looks fool you. She’s an evil Chinese lady and we hate each other.” Jean growled. He kicked the door open and gestured for Marco to follow him up the stairs.

“Evil Chinese lady, huh.” Marco mused to himself as he followed him. As Jean led him through the apartment, he continuously questioned himself whether he was doing Marco more bad than good in this whole situation. He could only hope he was doing the right thing.

Every time Marco came over, it felt like the same thing. Sit him in front of the TV, hope it entertains him enough to not want to leave, and maybe provide offhand conversation. Jean put the Xbox controller in Marco’s hands and hoped that would be a little more interesting than Restaurant Impossible on Netflix. Marco didn’t prove to be that competitive; Jean won every game whether it came to combat or racing, he wondered if Marco was even trying. It didn’t matter though, as long as Marco was occupied, it meant Jean was doing his job right.

 

All was calm until there was a brisk knock at the door. At the same moment, Jean’s phone buzzed at his side. The screen revealed a message that made his blood run cold.

**> >>From: Angry Small Man**

**Oi brat open your damn door**

Levi’s message glared at him almost as fiercely as the man himself. Marco gave him a concerned glance from his side; maybe he could see the blood leave Jean’s face.

If Levi was here, that meant he wanted to talk about things. God things.

How much did Levi know about him and Marco? Jean hoped it wasn’t a lot; what would he think about Marco being here? It shouldn’t matter–they weren’t doing anything; it wasn’t like that…or was it?

Jean jumped out of his seat. His mind was moving a million miles an hour, and he was reaching the conclusion that Levi not seeing Marco was the easiest route to go. A human interacting with the god of death wouldn’t be the wisest move.

“Marco, I need you to do me a favor.” Jean lowered his voice to a whisper and brought Marco to his feet.

“What’s wrong–”

“Just follow me!” Jean pulled Marco down the hall, his eyes scanning every corner of the apartment. They finally landed on the hallway closet and he knew it was a bad idea–

“ _Don’t make me knock again Jean_.” Levi’s voice carried through the apartment like a death sentence.

“Jean?”

“I need you to hide in here for a minute!”

Marco looked at the closet and then back to Jean.

“In the closet? Are you serious?” confusion was the most prominent expression on his face, but Jean didn’t have time to explain. He could only open the door and push Marco into the dark space.

“I’ll explain later!” With that, Jean closed the door on Marco’s bewildered expression and jogged down the hall to throw open the front door before Levi would officially have a reason to kill him.

Levi glared up at him with his arms crossed against his chest.

“What the hell took you so long?” he demanded.

“I uh…” Jean tried to run through the different possibilities in his mind. The one he came up with made even him cringe. “I was uh…masturbating?”

Levi’s grimace vanished, leaving him devoid of any evident emotion.

“You disgust me.” He muttered and pushed his way through the front door, only to pause in the living room. At first, Jean believed that Levi knew that someone else was in the apartment and it made his hands shake, but then he realized that Levi’s eyes were locked on the windowsill.

“And your apartment is filthy.” He sighed. “Figures.”

Jean lightly shut the door behind him and leaned back against it. He tried to calm his nerves before Levi could catch on.

_Levi smells fear, Levi smells fear, Levi smells fear…_

“I’ll make this quick.” Levi’s stare landed on the TV screen. Jean had to thank his lucky stars–if he ever had any–that he’d turned the dual screen off to force Marco to play a computer for the past twenty minutes. The second controller was somewhere behind a pillow on the couch.

Jean braced himself. He didn’t know what Levi would say, but he could assume what Levi wanted to talk about.

“Jean, you’ve nearly abandoned your title as the god of calamity because of your own morals.” Levi’s condescending gaze locked onto Jean. His words were blunt, Jean didn’t expect them any other way, but the sudden statement took him aback. “You’re not the only one, I had to have this talk with Reiner as well for your own sakes. It’s time you woke up.”

“Levi, what are you–”

Levi held up a finger and narrowed his eyes. When he spoke, his words were like daggers.

“Shut up I’m not done.”

Jean closed his mouth and pressed back against the wooden door. He wished he could pass through it and run.

“We’re going to war and you need to understand something.” Levi took a few steps forward as if he could sense Jean’s flight reflexes kicking in. “If you can’t get it through your thick head that this is a serious fight, you and your friends will die. There will be no time for feeling sorry for yourself, there will be no time for what if situations. You’re going to have to deal with it and do your job.”

Jean didn’t know how to respond. As terrified as Levi made him, he was also pissing him off. Why was he coming at him with this all of a sudden?

“I am not abandoning my title.” Jean stiffened against the door and forced himself to stand straight. “And I know that this is a serious fight–of course I would take this seriously.”

“You don’t take your job seriously.”

“Why are you saying all of this now?” Jean hated the way his voice shook. He wanted it to be stronger, louder, something less like the coward he was.

“I’ve wanted to say it for a long time.” Levi watched Jean’s expression as if it were entertaining. He could see him fighting for the upper hand, but no matter where he stood, Jean would always be scared of him and he knew it. “You’ve failed to realize that in this world we have no free will. We are here to do our jobs and to fulfill our purpose. It doesn’t matter what you like and what you want to do.”

“I can’t help but feel bad! We spend all this time around humans. How can you not feel bad Levi?!” Jean surprised himself when his voice broke the threshold of a whisper and rose to a shout.

“It’s because you’re getting soft Jean!” Levi barked back. “You’re trying to turn into one of them! You walk around living this fake life indulging in human friends and you start to feel like you belong don’t you? Well you won’t. You never will and you need to tell yourself that.”

“If that’s all you wanted to talk about, then fine I get it, you can go.” Jean hissed. What ever happened to what Levi had told him earlier? Was that all talk, or did something make him switch his views?

Levi shook his head and let out a tired laugh.

“You need to set aside your values and fight Jean.”

“What if I don’t want to fight?” Jean snapped back. He knew that he should keep quiet, shut his mouth like a good subordinate and not cause trouble, but he couldn’t stop himself. “What if I want to live like this? What if I want to be like them?!”

It was out.

The poisonous thought that ensnared Jean’s mind was finally free to circle into the air. Whether it spread or dissolved was up to it and the people around it, but Jean knew that Levi was the worst person to hear it.

Multiple emotions flashed across his face. He went from rage, to disappointment, to pity, before he pulled an expression Jean didn’t recognize.

Levi took another step closer. Despite his height disadvantage, his overwhelming presence brought Jean to his knees against his will. He stood, towering over Jean with what now looked like disdain and annoyance.

“I’ll make this clear Jean. You are not human. You will never be human. You do not have the right to act human.” Levi’s gaze froze over. “You are a god. You will get over this petty human attachment and fall back into your place. Do you understand?”

Jean’s arms shook as he tried to force himself back to his feet. It was if an invisible weight held him down; it was the pack leader’s influence, the rule of the tyrant king. He didn’t have the strength to fight against it, not yet and not ever.

“I…I understand.” Jean gritted out before he dropped his head. He stared at the hardwood floors in a mixture of shame and contained anger. His anger wasn’t being held back on his own, Levi was doing it for him by not allowing him to display it. And it was frustrating.

“Glad we had this talk.” Levi made the last few steps to open the front door. “I expect great things from you as the god of calamity. If you comply we might have a chance at winning this war.”

With that, Levi left and slammed the door behind him. It echoed through the apartment and Jean’s bones.

Jean waited a few moments before he tried to move again. He remained on his hands and knees, staring at nothing in particular until an ugly laugh forced itself out of his lungs.

Levi was right, his floor was filthy.

He couldn’t remember the last time he had vacuumed, let alone mopped the floor. Dust gathered in every possible crack, and it wasn’t obvious until he was on the floor to see it up close.

 

_Marco’s in the closet_.

That thought was extremely troubling. How much could he hear through a closet wall, and more than that, how angry was he at Jean right now? The whole ordeal had only taken about ten minutes, even though it felt like so much longer.

Jean slowly climbed to his feet and let out a long sigh. He backtracked to the hallway to open the closet door; a small light illuminated Marco’s face as he scrolled through his phone.

“Sorry Marco…the coast is clear. You can come out.” Jean stepped back to let Marco out. He slowly emerged from the dark and paused in the hallway to stretch.

“I’ve been in it for so long it’s about time I finally did.” Marco hummed nonchalantly. He checked over his shoulder to see Jean’s puzzled expression. “I’ve always wanted to make a ‘coming out of the closet’ joke.”

“O-oh.” Jean blinked back at him. He slowly shut the door and tried to think of a witty response. He had nothing.

He didn’t know what Marco identified as, but after the night at the bar he assumed that Marco liked other guys. It didn’t matter to Jean, but he knew that humans felt pressured to call themselves something. Gods didn’t care about gender or relationships…they were never things that were supposed to matter, but humans were different. Some humans even rejected one form of love over the other for no particular reason.

“Did you tell your parents yet?” Jean asked warily. He didn’t know how far he could trespass on the line of family with Marco, the last thing he wanted to do was hit a mine.

“Nah, there’s never a good time.” Marco yawned and walked into Jean’s bedroom. Jean didn’t stop him; he simply followed behind to lean against the door frame. “I’m sure hearing that their son is gay won’t help things.”

Jean wanted to say, “You never know unless you try”, but he knew Marco didn’t need to hear that garbage now. The topic was hurting him when he was pretending it didn’t. He could see it in his expression, but Marco probably didn’t even know that he was making it. His façade of being a tired college student wasn’t fooling Jean in the slightest, and it didn’t look like Marco would last for much longer like this anyway.

Marco crawled onto Jean’s bed and rolled against the wall, surrounding himself in pillows and blankets. At first Jean just watched, but it was painful to just stand there. Sure enough, Marco was breaking down right in front of him, again, and he still didn’t know what to do. He wasn’t human; he didn’t know what it felt like to hurt that badly. He didn’t know what it felt like to be rejected from his family.

Jean crawled up next to Marco to lay down so they could stay face to face. For a while, they just stared at each other; Jean could at least say that the golden flecks in Marco’s eyes hadn’t faded, nor did the small constellations that were formed from his freckles.

Jean wanted to ask a dozen questions. What do we do now? How can I help you feel better? What do you need me to do? What are we to one another now?

None of them seemed to fit into the atmosphere, but every question begged to be answered. Marco beat him with one of his own.

“Have you ever wanted to just give up?” Marco asked quietly. His voice was so fragile and quiet, it made Jean’s heart quake in pain.

It made him remember their late night chats when Marco would call him out of the blue and drop the most random questions on him as if Jean knew the answer. Sometimes they were ridiculous and sometimes, like now, they got pretty deep. Jean didn’t know how to answer the darker ones, considering he lacked a basic knowledge of human philosophy and ideology…there wasn’t much he could know.

But Jean knew what it felt like to want to give up. If he could drop everything and hide in a pit for the rest of his existence, he’d do it…but Levi’s words were concrete blocks in his mind, reminding him that even giving up was no longer an option for him.

“All the time.” Jean whispered. Marco stared back at him, and Jean could see the walls falling down once again. They were too much of an effort to hold up, that was also something Jean knew too well. “But you know what? You can’t give up…at least not yet.”

“I really want to.” Marco sighed, but it broke into pieces that resembled a sob. Jean squeezed his eyes shut; he wanted to take Marco’s pain and to handle it himself, he knew he would if he could do it. What’s another twenty-two years to him? It was barely anything‒if that was enough to stop his suffering‒

“What are in all of those boxes Jean?” Jean felt his blood run cold again. He opened his eyes to meet Marco’s, for some reason his were concerned. Why would he be concerned?

“I…I can’t tell you.” Jean winced at how shitty that sounded. “Not yet.”

Marco nodded.

“And the person at the door?”

Jean frowned. “That too.”

Marco let out a sigh before turning on his side to face the wall.

“I know how that is.”

Jean tried to swallow all of his emotions and push them down into the pit of his stomach. He knew they would only grow and push their way back up to the surface, that’s what they always did. It was him running away again, because in the end that’s what he did best.

When he couldn’t deal with his past and the feelings that came with it, he’d pack it all up into boxes, seal them up, and hide them in his closet for them to gather dust. He wasn’t dealing with anything; he was turning his back on them like bad things didn’t happen. But they did, and this is what happened when someone just couldn’t handle it the same way. They broke apart in front of him while they insisted that they were fine. They didn’t have the ability to put things aside and worry about them later, because they didn’t have time.

Jean watched the rise and fall of Marco’s body slow until they became steady and calm with sleep. As small and broken as Jean knew he was, Marco still held that strong and sure exterior to him; it seemed that the inside of the structure was crumbling much earlier than the exterior, and that was what constituted as ‘okay’. How much longer did he have before Marco broke down completely?

“I don’t want to hurt you.” Jean murmured and scooted closer to hug Marco close to him. It didn’t seem to make much of a difference anymore; there was definitely something doing that job for him, and it was making sure it was doing it thoroughly. Jean knew holding him like this wouldn’t be enough, but he had to try.

That was all he could to do.

 

 

 

That night Marco cried in his sleep.

Jean couldn’t do anything about it. He couldn’t stop the spasms from wracking the boy’s body or the pain that plagued his heart. He could only tangle them in the blankets, wishing Marco’s pain could transfer to him instead like a sickness. His agony put him in agony, but Jean knew it was only a fraction of Marco’s pain. The least he could do was allow them to suffer together. He combated sobs with kisses to his forehead and soothing pats to remind Marco that he wasn’t alone. When he began to wake up, Jean told him to go back to sleep and to, no matter what, keep crying.

And so he cried, for hours, until finally he shut down. He cried himself back into the deep sleep he had emerged from and stayed there for the rest of the night, gripping Jean as if he were his lifeline. Jean held him just as tightly, but he couldn’t sleep.

Marco’s suffering played on repeat like a song stuck in his head.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So…haha it’s been since the end of March that this was last updated…I’M SO SORRY TO ALL YOU WONDERFUL READERS! I have legitimate excuses-college and summer job and the exhaustion that comes from that…but as always, I’m so appreciative to all of you still follow this and leave such great comments. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! :)   
> ^^^  
> There's a storm brewing...


	13. Tale of Marco: Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marco has more pain in his heart than Jean knows, more than any human being should know. Learning to cope has been rough, but maybe Marco will achieve it fully someday.

Marco grew up believing in things other people didn’t.

He never had the ability to properly explain it. One day he’d see a “shiny man” at the bank or a dog with piercing red eyes at the park, but when he’d tell his mother she’d shush him and tell him it was his imagination. The more he pointed it out, the more it was denied, until Marco finally stopped mentioning things. He didn’t appreciate the concerned stares or the embarrassed looks his mother would give the strangers who heard his outburst, nor did he want to be treated as if he were crazy. He didn’t question why it seemed like he had the best memory of the family, or that he could see things others couldn’t; he figured he was just weird. Something was wrong with him, but maybe not in a bad way.

He was a naturally optimistic person. He’d seek to find the positive points of his situations and try to cheer up others. He liked seeing people smile and hearing them laugh, that was why he was grateful to his step-father. His step-father had the ability to make his mother happy by barely trying.

Marco had never met his biological father. His mother told him he had died just after Marco was born, but she didn’t have any photos to show him. So his father became a phantom, a man who was there but not long enough to linger in Marco’s seemingly perfect memory. Marco loved his step-father though, and he treated Marco like he was one of his own, even when Marco’s stepbrother Gale was born. The five-year difference between them barely made the difference to them growing up, and nothing made Marco happier than his family.

Marco considered himself fairly average. Yeah, he was smart, he was nice, he was considerably good-looking (he wished people would stop calling him Freckles though), he could be funny, but he never felt as if he truly belonged anywhere. As much as Marco loved his family, he felt like the odd one out, and that feeling only grew with time. Growing up in a big city made him feel even smaller, like he was the optional piece in the grand scheme to everything. He wished he knew what that scheme was.

He thought his life was complicated enough on its own, but things got weirder after he pulled a stranger out of the street. It was a regular day in Trost; he’d been running late to one of his lectures and sure enough, it started to pour without warning. The forecast had not predicted rain that day, but Marco, as usual, didn’t question it. He watched a young man, who was nearly soaked to the core, step into the street without bothering to see the car speeding at him without any sign of stopping. Marco had saved him on fast-acting, more out of reflex than anything else, and barely gave the guy enough time to realize what had happened before he had to run off. In that small amount of time, Marco took in his bewildered brown eyes and disheveled hair; it reminded him of a wild animal. He uttered a barely audible “I’m sorry?” as if he wasn’t sure how to respond to a man trying to shake sense into him. It was pretty amusing.

The man remained in his thoughts that entire day.

He had looked at Marco as if he were shocked someone would pull him out of the way. As if he weren’t expecting to be saved. That troubled Marco to no end, and the next thing he knew, he was hooked on a stranger. He wondered where he came from, where he lived, why he didn’t hold the same gray washed-out look all of the other Trost citizens had.

When they met again in the café on a much brighter and nicer day, Marco could see why the guy had caught his attention. It wasn’t just the glow from his light brown eyes, or the way his hair seemed to be two colors-the top half being a lighter, almost blond color and the undercut being a rich brown-it was his entire being. He was an average height and of an average build with angular features that gave him an intimidating aura when Marco first looked at him, but it wasn’t just that either. The light that filtered through the windows landed on him differently, refracting off of him as if he were made of glass and enhancing his features far beyond what Marco was used to seeing. It wasn’t an obvious observation, in fact it took Marco over an hour to notice it, but it just made Jean all the more special.

Jean was a mystery to him.

Beyond that indifferent and ‘don’t talk to me’ impression Jean seemed to give off at first, he was a kind and gentle guy who seemed to take Marco more seriously than any of his friends. Perhaps that was his character; he wanted to be social, yet others were too scared to approach him in the first place. It almost felt like an honor that Jean wanted to be around him; Jean became another person Marco wanted to please. He had a feeling that could be difficult because Jean looked like he had a lot on his mind.

When he wasn’t looking at him, Marco could see Jean was worlds away. His eyes held a faraway look that transcended simply zoning out and looking at nothing in particular; it was like Jean was looking at everything at once. Marco wanted to know what was on his mind when he’d stare out the window and chew on his lower lip, half-listening to what Marco was saying about school or whatever they talked about. It didn’t make Marco jealous that Jean wasn’t giving him his full attention, he was jealous because he couldn’t see what Jean was seeing. Whatever Jean saw, it gave Marco the impression that it wasn’t anything good; he could blame it on his ignorant observations, but the way emotion clouded Jean’s eyes begged to suggest that he had been through hell and back. Marco wondered if he ever had that look before.

Jean’s eyes showed more emotion than his face. Marco had to admit the guy was hard to read; emotions weren’t as obviously displayed on him as they were with others. Seeing his bewildered expression after being pulled out the street was the biggest reaction Marco’s seen from Jean to date. So Marco looked to his eyes to catch what he was searching for. That spark of excitement, the storm clouds of annoyance or when something was bothering him, and that bright glow his eyes got when he was genuinely happy. Marco’s heart still did somersaults when he’d see Jean’s eyes light up when he looked at him. Did Marco’s presence make him that happy? If so, that would be a relief because Marco was hooked. Maybe it was that dark, foreboding, look Jean’s eyes held or his offhand sass that still took Marco by surprise, or maybe it was the way he made Marco feel like the only person in the world when he stared at him. That giddy, childlike thought of, ‘he’s looking at me! Just me!’ was both a little unhealthy and incredibly addicting.

He didn’t understand how Jean viewed himself.

How little did he have to think of himself for Marco to forget about him in just three days? Not only that, but every time they met after a brief period of not seeing one another, Jean kept a look that suggested that he didn’t expect Marco to recognize him. Jean didn’t do it anymore, but he only stopped recently; Marco never had the opportunity to ask why this was. He didn’t enjoy pressing people, or bringing up topics that could potentially trouble someone simply because that’s what he wanted. Jean seemed to be the only one who both understood and reciprocated that.

He could see that Jean was lonely, but hell, in this city it wasn’t a question of who was lonely, it was who wasn’t lonely. Who wasn’t drifting along the streets wondering where their place was among thousands who could either be happier than the other or in a much darker place? Marco wondered if they could be lonely together, if that would be enough to dull the pain they both seemed to be feeling, even if they were on two completely different levels.

Marco could tell that Jean was much stronger than Marco thought he was. He wasn’t someone who walked through life indifferently, waltzing into streets and shaking it off when narrowly avoiding death; he was someone struggling under a heavy load that had gotten so unbearable he barely noticed that car coming in the first place. Perhaps getting hit would’ve gotten rid of that burden, but Marco couldn’t imagine letting someone die right in front of him. Whatever happened—or was happening—to Jean made him strong, much stronger than Marco could ever be. He feared that Jean saw him like everyone else did; that Marco was all sunshine and happy thoughts slapped into a young man who never had a bad day in his life. Of course, that wasn’t true. Far from it. Just because he wanted to stay positive and just because he had a visibly happy disposition, didn’t mean he wasn’t hurting. The exterior was the Marco that he wanted to keep and hope that it would stop the questions and concerned stares, but on the inside Marco could feel himself falling apart. He was scared that Jean saw him as some sort of hero that sought to help everyone else and make the world a better place, when in reality Marco was the one who wanted to be saved. He didn’t know who he wanted to be saved from. Himself? His parents? More or less, he didn’t know how long he could keep it contained. He wanted to tell Jean everything, but if he exposed himself–his true self with all of his dark aspects included–would Jean accept him? It would probably destroy the image he had for Marco in his mind, and even worse, it could invoke pity. That was something Marco couldn’t stand. He never saw pity flash across Jean’s face, but he didn’t doubt that it was something Jean was capable of.

Marco was selfish.

He knew it, and he knew he was selfish to his core. Yes, he strived to help others and to make them feel better, but in the end it was all for his own sake. This wasn’t something that brought Marco down anymore; all humans are selfish, it was built into their disposition. Some were simply more selfish than others.

He wanted to correct his mistakes. He wanted to be a doctor to save lives, to make himself feel better about the world he was living in, to be that glimmer of hope in the world that Marco was sure had already been extinguished. He could put aside his fear of the hollow empty halls and the scent of sickeningly sanitized air if it meant that he could do something. Anything than sitting around and doing nothing.

It felt like a large portion of his life was spent in a hospital. It was somewhere he never wanted to be again after he suffered from a random bout of appendicitis at six and a broken arm at seven. He hated the sound of beeping machines, the ominous clock ticking on the wall, and the observation that everything was just too white. If he held such a heavy distaste for hospitals when he was only there for such a short time, how did it feel to be stuck there for months, or even years?

How did his friend always keep that happy and cheerful expression when he was limited to his hospital bed and the lounge, listening to the sounds of suffering and ticking clocks? Marco didn’t understand it; he’d wring his hands dry sitting in the chair next to his bed for hours, trying his hardest to put on that same sunny demeanor he always had, but seeing him like this made him want to cry. He wanted to be that genius child who found a cure to that horrible disease, the kid who saved hundreds of lives simply by being smart, but he couldn’t. He couldn’t shed tears in front of someone who had it worse off than him, who still managed to smile in his presence to assure him that he was going to be okay.

Marco wanted to believe he was going to be okay.

Even when his stay in the hospital extended from weeks to months and from months to years, Marco kept telling himself that Thomas wouldn’t—couldn’t—die. Thomas was strong, he’d fought this long, and hard work always paid off in the end, right? It was the beginning of his denial; and it became his most powerful form of running away. He couldn’t accept death; it was too sudden and too demanding to comprehend. It couldn’t be possible for anyone he knew or cared about to die, it couldn’t happen. Perhaps if he could convince himself of this, it would come true. As long as he didn’t admit death’s presence, it wouldn’t touch him. He didn’t know how badly it would bite him in the end.

 

For three years Marco came to the same hospital–and several different rooms since Thomas moved around a lot–to see the same face with the same expression at least twice a week. After school he’d either take the bus or have his mother drive him there to see him; that was what best friends did. Seven years of friendship wasn’t just something he could take for granted, even if those past three years weren’t spent the way either of them would’ve liked.

Marco almost wanted to yell at him, to beg him to stop playing around–to admit that the world was cruel and that sooner or later, he was going to die whether Marco wanted him to or not. Thomas was always that kind of a guy who gave the hard truth rather than what Marco wanted to hear, and that was something he needed. Marco was beginning to think that this was one of those times, that the tables had turned and it was Marco’s responsibility to tell him that he should stop fighting. That all of this pain and suffering simply for the sake of staying alive wasn’t worth it. He wanted to tell Thomas that it was okay to give up, because he of all people had the right to say enough was enough.

But he didn’t have to.

Marco remembered it well. It was the last time he got to see him, and it was painful because Marco had no idea it would be, but that was death, and Marco was ready for the whole toothy grin and crass jokes he always got. At first it seemed like that was how it was going to be; Marco took his regular seat, dumped the school drama on him like he always did, and expected him to laugh. He got a phlegmy cough that sounded worse than all the others he’d heard and a weak smile. Thomas didn’t say anything for a while, and Marco could tell he wanted to crack a joke but it never managed to get out, instead he let out a small sob that nearly broke Marco’s heart in two. He could only watch as his friend finally gave in, abandoning the ‘all is good and well’ exterior and break apart in front of his eyes. He didn’t have the energy for the common gross sobbing session that occur in those sad movies or cheesy soap operas, but Marco did. He tried, and he tried so hard, to stop the floodgates from opening because he had lasted this long without crying in front of him–he couldn’t crack now. But crying alone in his room or on the car ride home from the hospital wasn’t enough to empty his well; he had plenty of tears to spill when it came to this.

“You know it as well as I do Marco.” His voice cracked as he raised his hand slowly into the air. Thomas’s eyes followed the various tubes that ran out of him and into the beeping machine at his side with a look that could only be labelled as disgust. “I’m not going to try to sugarcoat it anymore okay?”

Marco had squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the tears coming. He wondered if he squeezed hard enough, he could push away the tears and push away the truth instead of living in this cold, harsh reality. He took a shaky breath and he wanted to tell him not to say it, even when it was something they both needed to hear. It was something they both needed to understand and accept.

“I’m going to die okay?” Thomas’s blunt words still held their bite. “And I’m not sad about it anymore and neither should you.”

He wanted to scream out ‘bullshit’ or any other form of profanity that could get through Thomas’s thick head, but he knew it would be useless. Words would bounce off of him like useless ammo and leave Marco nothing but winded and defenseless. He wanted to tell him that he would be okay. That his disease will go away and they could go home together and go back to how things used to be.

“I appreciate everything you’ve ever done for me. And my family sees you like one of their own, you know.”

That fucking clock kept ticking. It was the most mocking thing someone could put in a hospital. Second by second, their time was ticking away and visiting hours were about to be over. Second by second, lives were reaching their final moments without anyone being able to stop it. Marco wanted him to stop talking, it wasted so much energy and caused him so much pain, but he also couldn’t stand the idea this could be–and would be–the last conversation they’d ever have.

“If these really are my last days though…” Thomas’s voice had faltered and it nearly gave Marco a heart attack. “I wish I could go home…at least one more time…”

Marco had stared at him in shock. Was this his last wish? Did Marco have the ability to make that come true?

Thomas’s expression was enough to tell him the answer to both.

“I just want to go home.” He sobbed. “I don’t want to die here.”

Yes, Thomas’s last wish was to go home and to die with the comfort of his family, and no, Marco didn’t have the power to make that wish come true; as extremely frustrating and heart-wrenching as that was, Marco knew Thomas was trying to tell him that was how it was going to be. He knew Thomas wasn’t trying to be cruel, but it hurt him worse than any wound someone could inflict upon him. He wanted to say he was sorry, even when he didn’t know what for, just so he could say _something_.

As he got up to leave with his mother that night, he could remember Thomas’s words ringing in his ears long after he had gone home, and even now his words haunted him.

“I’ll see you next time.”

That was what happened in hospitals. Those beeping machines and empty hallways never guaranteed a next time. Even when it felt like being sucked into a black hole of death and decay, hospitals tried to insist that they gave and saved lives. Once you went in it was nearly impossible to get out, and when you did, it was only a matter of time before you were back once again.

Thomas’s death left Marco in shock.

He had been keeping up the same routine for so long, it was strange to think that his reason for returning was no longer there. It was so strange that for days after his death, Marco would still make that trek back to the hospital and stand in front of his old hospital room, staring at the bed that should have still held his best friend. The nurses who recognized him gave him passing smiles that dripped with pity, and it almost made Marco sick. How often did Thomas get those looks, and how long did it take him to get used to it? Did he ever?

He didn’t want to believe that there would be no more smiles and breathy laughter. He couldn’t be gone that easily, surely there was a mistake. His heart had given out? Were they sure, did they check? Maybe it was a flaw in the system?–God tell him it was a flaw in the system!

It got to the point where his mother had to grip him by the shoulders and forcibly shake him to get the truth to his head.

“Thomas is gone Marco!” he had never seen so much pain on his mother’s face before, and he’d seen her in labor. “I know you’re hurting, and it’s okay to hurt! But you won’t stop hurting until you let him go!”

_Let him go_.

What did that mean?

To stop acting like his death didn’t leave a gaping hole in his body that wouldn’t ever be filled? As if something like that were possible. His lack of presence made his last words heavier than Marco could ever imagine. Marco didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life; he stared at the future with wide eyes and sweaty palms. Thomas didn’t get to finish and graduate from middle school. He didn’t get to start his freshman year in high school. He’d never get the chance to feel the stress of college applications or see the joy on his parent’s faces when he walked across the stage to graduate from high school. Or college. Thomas had dreams. He wanted to be an engineer, he was going to do things with his life and be somebody–but now he couldn’t. It was just Marco and he had nothing to stand for. He couldn’t even grant Thomas’s last wish; he couldn’t ease his suffering like a friend should. Never in his life had Marco felt so small.

He wondered how death chose its victims.

Did it look at someone and say ‘you!’ or was there a list that held the names? Did Thomas have to die for the unknown plan for the world? Was this something he just shouldn’t question?

To be in a position of so little power and control, Marco hated it. There had to be something he could do.

So he decided to be a doctor. He studied through high school to get the perfect scores his parents desired, only to tell them that he wasn’t going to do what they wanted him to do. Eventually grades didn’t matter as much anymore to them and Gale’s life mattered more. He was easier to influence; he could be the ‘son that takes over the company’ if they raised him right. Perhaps sheltering a child could make miracles happen.

Marco questioned why he felt such a strong desire to be a doctor. He wanted to help people, but even more so he wanted to feel the satisfaction. He wanted to slowly fill the void his best friend had left behind. He wanted to hate himself less and less until his past only became a small page to his story that he could eventually tear out and throw away without denying himself. He wanted this big stand to hold as an apology for everything he couldn’t do when it was needed. He wanted to say that he was sorry for not being able to grant Thomas’s wish, for not being able to do more except sit there and cry like a baby. It was starting to feel like the only thing Marco could do was apologize.

 

Death was merciless; it was something that took away everything and anything someone could care for without regret and without hesitation. It was inevitable and it would happen. He didn’t cry when his dog died, it only made the hole a little bigger. How long would it take until he fell into it?

It didn’t take as long as Marco expected it to.

He never thought a letter could bring him crashing down again. In his defense, Marco never had the chance to get that high up in the first place, and he had the tendency to crash and burn rather than stumble and get up. He had spent so much time studying and worrying about his own future, his own reason for existing, that he’d failed to see the suffering of someone close to him.

By being a doctor, Marco believed he could even help his brother Gale, who suffered from an illness for as long as Marco could remember. His mental illness didn’t define him, but his parents let it run rampant until it consumed him. Marco wasn’t pointing fingers, but he couldn’t extinguish the flame of pure anger he felt towards the people who raised him and his brother. His parents should have gotten a letter; some haunting memento on what had happened and why, rather than Marco, the one who never saw it coming. Marco knew he had failed as the older sibling, but the letter made him question whether his brother fully blamed him.

Marco could never conjure the strength to open the letter, let alone read it.

He realized his resolve must have been truly weak.

As his world came crashing down around him, his reason unraveling at the seams, Marco couldn’t find the will to pick up the pieces again. He’d fallen once and tried his best to climb back to his feet, but he couldn’t do it again. He wasn’t special, he wasn’t strong, and he wasn’t important. If he couldn’t save anyone there was no point to being a doctor. Nothing would change.

He wanted to retreat into himself. He wanted to hide from reality again; if only it was just him who was crumbling.

His parent’s marriage was also falling apart. Gale’s death brought upon inner family chaos; loud shouting matches coupled with silent treatments of one another. Marco’s step-father no longer wanted to look at Marco as his son, Gale was his only child.

Being a doctor was just a dream that was drifting farther and farther away, slipping through Marco’s fingers like sand that he wished would gather underneath him to suck him out and away.

His selfishness led to him confiding in Jean. He didn’t want him to pick up his panicked call, for Jean to see him this weak…that wasn’t what he wanted. Weakness invoked pity, and God forbid he got that.

Marco had to admit that Jean was truly doing his best to try to keep him afloat. He may not know how (who would?), but he was trying. As grateful as he was, he couldn’t help but wonder why Jean would go that far. Yeah they were friends, but they hadn’t known each other for long. Marco couldn’t gauge what his relationship with Jean was in the first place. Negativity still plagued him as badly as his grief did, and he couldn’t avoid it no matter how hard he tried. He had to repeat things in order to truly believe them. Jean cared about him. He went through the trouble of dragging him away from the one place Marco didn’t want to return to because he was worried about him.

Of all the times to fall in love.

Marco knew it was happening for a while, but at this point it felt like the only thing he could do was fucking _fall_.

Honestly, love was the last thing he needed; another reason to hurt and suffer, another pain in his side that he wouldn’t be able to get rid of. He didn’t want to worry about whether Jean harbored feelings for him like he wanted, nor did he want to have to expose himself to someone fully. He couldn’t just open his heart and show Jean what he wanted to see, he couldn’t just spill his guts to someone who wasn’t giving their all either. He knew Jean was holding a lot back, maybe even only telling half the truth all the time, and that didn’t bother him as much as it did now. Why didn’t he trust Marco? Was his past so bad that he couldn’t stand the idea of talking about it? As much as Marco didn’t want to talk about Thomas, he felt like he had to, eventually, in order to feel better. In order to move on and ‘let go’.

Maybe Jean had a different way of handling his pain, a more stable and efficient method perhaps, but Marco didn’t know what it was.

Sitting in the dark and surprisingly spacious closet in Jean’s apartment truly made him wonder. While trying in vain to make out the muffled voices from the other side of the wall, Marco used the flashlight on his phone to examine the boxes stacked along the wall beside him. By being in the closet they avoided gathering dust, but even Marco could tell that these boxes were old–and they hadn’t been opened. The duct tape had weakened with age, threatening to pop open on its own from the large amount of things crammed into the box. There weren’t any labels to identify what they were, but Marco could assume that they were things Jean didn’t want to see anymore.

Did he pack his past into boxes and hide them away for another day? Sealing away memories as if they were objects that could be forgotten, that was something Marco wished he could do. It seemed like he wasn’t allowed to forget, like this was some punishment for something he couldn’t remember doing. Was it because he was ‘different’? Was this his path for the ‘great scheme’? Who knew?

He wanted to give up. He wanted to give up so badly, but he knew he didn’t have the right to. He couldn’t choose that sort of thing. So he’d push it down and tackle it later, and the only way he knew how to do that was drinking.

Marco didn’t like to drink.

Or at least, he used to not like to drink. He hated the loss of control and the fuzzy numbing feeling alcohol gave you that people called a buzz. Now he relied on it like medication to block out the thoughts with white noise and laughter that he didn’t know he had left. Dance harder, drink more, and try not to let the darkness consume him before he got home.

He made a mistake. He’d made many in his life, but this one seemed to take the cake.

In his moment of weakness, he’d invited Jean out to drink with him. Looking back on it, he would’ve shouted ‘NO!’ at his former self and simply drank at home, but he craved Jean’s presence. It was like he fed off of him like a leech on its host, drinking in his entire being as if Jean could help him heal without Marco having to do the work.

Being drunk left him out of control, and it made his desire for that void to be filled much stronger than it was when he was sober. He sought Jean to fill that hole, and Jean had let him. He wasn’t disappointed, but he wasn’t satisfied. What did that mean? Did Jean feel the same way about him or was he simply humoring him until he felt better? Marco didn’t believe either of them were necessarily the case; it seemed like Jean knew what it was like to hurt this way. Jean must have done the same thing before; seeking comfort in another person to mask his own pain in order to stay sane…it was believable. Jean was only a year older than him, yet Marco felt like Jean had so much more experience under his belt than the average twenty-three-year-old. While Jean was keeping his head up amongst the rising tide of water, Marco was barely managing to get to the surface. Could Jean be suffering more than Marco was, and Marco was making it worse by showing his weakness in front of him? This was very probable, but Marco didn’t know how to fix the situation. He couldn’t stop suffering–he had no doubt that he’d be suffering for even longer than now and the same went for Jean.

If that was the case, couldn’t they just suffer together?

To ease the pain with another’s rather than doubling the damage…if that was possible, Marco didn’t mind. If Jean didn’t love him, Marco wasn’t going to pressure him into making a decision. If Jean didn’t want to tell him the truth, Marco wouldn’t make him. They could push it all away with ‘I’ll tell you later’ and ‘I don’t want to talk about it’ for as long as they pleased. When one fell apart the other could try to glue the pieces back together. This dark and twisted sense of a relationship could hold for so long, if only it could hold until Marco decided whether he wanted to be whole again. Could the words ‘I love you’ save him from the depths of his despair? Would it give him the strength to open that letter or enroll next year at his University with pre-med still marked as his major?

As much as he hated showing weakness, Marco wanted Jean to pull him out of the pit and to, just this one time, be his hero. He knew he was using Jean to the worst degree, but that was all he could do. If Jean needed him, he would be there to help. If Jean ever lost the foothold he’d been standing on this entire time, Marco could bet damn well he’d be there to catch him when he fell.

If he couldn’t support their weight, at least they’d fall together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh I don’t know about you guys, but I loved getting that inside perspective of Marco’s! Sorry about the wait for this chapter, yet again I have been a slow editor. But at least our other stories are getting updated, right? If you haven’t read our story ‘Naruto’s Raven’, we recently completed that, if any of you are interested. Thank you so much for reading!  
> ^^^^  
> *retreats into the shadows*


	14. Premonition

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jean is stressed about the prospect of war, and talking with Marco only causes more problems. What could their future look like with war on the horizon?

It was said that some things happened for a reason.

Jean didn’t know if he believed the saying, but he did know that he would rather have something happen suddenly rather than sneak up on him from behind. That was how calamity was supposed to be: a sudden disaster that destroyed everything in its wake in a matter of seconds without giving anyone time to counter it. Of course, sometimes that wasn’t the way calamity worked.

It took a while for Jean to realize this. He was currently watching everything he had known shatter around him in a heap of panic and despair while he sat in the center of it all feeling surprisingly….hollow. Jean knew he should be feeling something stronger than this unbearable emptiness that fed off the darkness in his apartment, or something other than the constant throbbing behind his eyes.

Marco was still hurting.

That wasn’t a surprise; considering the only pain Jean felt these days came from Marco, and it seemed like the boy was going to be hurting for a long time. It was deep and rooted to its source, something that felt unique but also sadly familiar.

The pain no longer bothered Jean, and in a twisted way he found it somewhat comforting; he could monitor Marco’s status without seeing him–although it wasn’t like he could gauge Marco’s emotions in person anyway–and Marco wasn’t too keen on keeping contact like they used to.

Jean was just spending his time waiting. Waiting for Erwin to send them to their inevitable deaths, for Marco to reach out to him again, and waiting for anything to make him feel some form of emotion. It was concerning to say the least; why wasn’t he scared? He could be days from his death, yet here he was sitting in the dark watching TV as he always did. There was nothing else he could do. Jean admitted that he was domesticated, lazy, and as Levi had put so nicely, detached from his role of being a god. What made him any different than a human who had given up on the world and secluded themselves?

He didn’t want Marco to fade away, consumed by whatever tragedy that controlled his life. He couldn’t just hide from Jean forever.

Since Marco didn’t initiate the conversations, Jean started to. When he felt Marco’s attention lag, he’d tried to bring him back into it. It was starting to look like desperation; as if he wanted to hold onto Marco for as long as he could before he had to finally let go.

 

Today felt a little different in terms of communication. Marco replied quickly with more than a couple of words, and sometimes he’d change the subject to keep their conversation going. Jean stared down at his phone in a mixture of relief and confusion. Did this mean that today was one of Marco’s better days? Or was he just imagining things? The pain was still there, but there was a possibility that Marco was slowly healing.

A muddled lump of concern formed itself in the back of Jean’s throat when Marco asked to meet up. He had to swallow it as he asked him when and where, pushing up and out of his seat to change into an outfit he hadn’t been wearing for three days straight.

He wanted to meet in an hour at the park near Jean’s apartment.

Jean remembered the night they had run into each other; a too-dark and starless night that prompted Jean’s little temper tantrum of shutting out the city lights. As random as it was, Marco had found him and remembered who he was. For the first time, Marco had made Jean feel like the odds were finally in his favor.

And he was grateful for that.

It felt nice; sticking in someone’s memory; to mean something to someone…it was a good feeling that Jean could get used to.

Jean stepped out of his apartment building and cast his gaze towards the sky. The warm summer breeze ruffled his hair and blew through the trees that lined the sidewalks. It was a good day; and Jean tried to tell himself that as he made his way towards the park.

As he neared the fence, he paused where a portion of it was missing. He examined the skid marks from Eren’s tires and the burnt patches of grass scattered around him. The glass had been cleaned up, but it seemed there was still work to be done. Jean didn’t want to remember that night, but it had clearly left its mark on the city, however temporary it may have been.

With a heavy sigh, Jean walked across the playground towards the boy who idly rocked himself on the swing while he scrolled through his phone. The Trost air tossed his rich dark hair around his face as he squinted at the screen; his bright red shirt made his sun kissed skin look lighter than it normally did. Jean could admit that Marco looked good today. The bags under his eyes were less visible, and he looked more like a normal college student. Maybe, just maybe…he was getting better?

Jean took him in as he slowly made his approach. He looked at the way his freckles scattered across his skin, how his eyes still held their glow even though it was still duller than it used to be.

Marco looked up, amber eyes landing on Jean’s, and a small smile crept on his face. Jean missed the face-splitting grins and hearty laughter, but now wasn’t the time to be nostalgic.

“Hey.” Marco stopped rocking as Jean came to a stop in front of him.

“Hey.” Jean scuffed a foot in the dirt and ran a hand through his hair. “What’s up?”

“I just thought we should talk.” Marco slid his phone into the pocket of his shorts before directing his gaze up to Jean.

“Okay.” Jean said warily, his eyebrows pulling together.

He waited for Marco to say something, but Marco just stared back at him, his eyes wandering across his face as if he were looking for something. Just as Jean was about to demand for Marco to start talking, Marco spoke in a blunt tone.

“I’m dropping out of medical school.”

Jean couldn’t stop his jaw from falling open in time.

“You’re dropping out? Why?”

“A lot of reasons.” Marco shrugged. “I have too much going on with my family, it’s too much money and it’s too much effort…”

“But Marco you want to be a doctor!”

The corner of Marco’s eye twitched. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

“So why are you giving that up?” Jean’s eyes raked across Marco’s face; this time it was his turn to find the answers in Marco’s expression, but he was coming up short.

“I just told you.” Marco said coldly. He dropped his gaze to the ground. “I don’t want to be a doctor anymore, it’s just a waste of my time right now.”

“So what will you do?”

“I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.” Marco let out a laugh before looking up at Jean again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

It didn’t make sense. Being a doctor was Marco’s dream; it was the one thing that seemed to push the boy forward in his life. Or at least, that was how Marco made it seem. There wasn’t enough time in a human life to be a doctor whenever they wanted, and if Marco had gotten this far, why would he drop it like it was nothing? It was starting to look like even a dream wasn’t strong enough to keep humans going.

Not even Jean knew why it made him so angry. Perhaps it was because he was getting jealous of humans. Maybe, as a god, Jean longed for something to keep him going. He wanted a dream, or at least some kind of motivation. He knew Marco was hurting, but he couldn’t just watch Marco let everything go. Not without a reason.

“I don’t understand you!” Jean’s voice rose loud enough to make a few pedestrians look at them from the sidewalk. “How can you just give up on something you cared about like it’s nothing? Aren’t you sad at all?”

“No, actually I’m relieved.” Marco shrugged, but a flash of emotion told Jean what he already knew.

He was lying.

Not only to Jean, but to himself as well.

“You shouldn’t give it up that easily Marco. Follow your dream while you’re young, you never know what could happen–”

“Jean it’s not my dream anymore!” Marco’s frown turned into a glare. Jean could tell he was pushing Marco into a corner, but how else would he make him see?

“Stop lying to yourself Marco! Seriously, what’s bringing this on all of a sudden?!”

“Why does what I do matter to you so much? I’m not interested in being a doctor and that’s just the way it is okay? Deal with it!” Marco’s voice rose above Jean’s, startling him enough to take a step back. Marco remained seated, but it was clear that he wanted the conversation to be over.

“Marco…”

“I don’t want to hear it. It’s already done, I dropped my major this morning.” Marco kicked a clump of dirt; it bounced a couple of feet away from Jean. “I just wanted you to know, but I didn’t think you’d be so against it.”

Jean grit his teeth. Was it Marco’s family that made him do this? Or had the pressure finally reached his head to the point where he was panicking? Marco clearly didn’t want to be questioned on it anymore, but Jean wondered why he was so stubborn on his decision.

Instead of arguing like he wanted to, Jean just let out a long breath and turned to watch the cars go by. He pushed away his frustration and anger for the moment and chewed on the inside of his cheek.

 

It was their first fight. It certainly wasn’t the best timing; in fact, it could be the worst. The pain that had migrated to his head had intensified in the past five minutes, and it made Jean scowl at the glint each car held when they passed by. He didn’t want to say anything he didn’t mean, and he didn’t want to make their standing anymore bitter than it already was. What would happen if these were the last words they exchanged?

What would happen if Jean simply vanished? Would it be possible for Marco to finally forget his existence? He wondered if it were possible for Marco to move on and continue to live a normal life. If he could…maybe Jean’s disappearance would be for the best.

“Hey Marco.” Jean watched a car blow through a red light and narrowly miss being hit. “Would you miss me if I left and you never saw me again?”

Jean noticed the switch in Marco’s tone. “What?" 

“What would you do if you never saw me again?”

“Jean what are you saying?” Jean heard the creak of the swing when Marco stood up; he didn’t turn to look at Marco, but he could hear the panic in his voice.  What was he thinking?

“Would you miss me?” He didn’t know if he was searching for some sort of reassurance from Marco’s response, but the question was begging to be answered. He could easily say that he would miss Marco if he left, and he would miss Marco for the rest of his existence if it wasn’t cut short.

“Why are you saying this right now?” Marco sounded exasperated. “What do you mean Jean, why are you saying this?”

Marco’s voice grew more panicked by the second, and out of curiosity, Jean finally turned around. Marco had both hands buried in his hair, pushing it away from his forehead as he stared at Jean in what looked like terror. He watched Jean with wide eyes; Jean half-expected him to start crying.

Why was he taking this so badly?

He had only meant it as a hypothetical question, not as something serious to put Marco in physical pain.

“I ask everyone that question.” Jean lied. “It’s not that serious, I was just wondering if you’d miss me, that’s all.”

“Are you going somewhere?”

“No.” Jean’s mind wandered to Headquarters. There was a chance that he’d return, but if he didn’t… “But I just wanted to know what you would do. Would you cry?”

“I’d find you.” Marco responded automatically. When Jean glanced at him he could see Marco was being completely serious. “No matter where you went, I would find you.”

“And bring me back?”

“Yeah.”

“Even if I didn’t want to come back?”

“Then I’d stay with you.” Marco dropped his hands from his hair. They hung loosely at his sides. “Whatever it took.”

Jean let out an airy laugh. “You’re only human Marco.”

“So are you.”

Jean wrinkled his nose and rocked back on his heels. _If only I was._

“You’re right.” Jean smiled at him. “Thank you.”

“I don’t want to hear that you’re going to do something drastic…you’d tell me if you were wouldn’t you?” It sounded like a plea. If he wanted to consider going to war as drastic, then Jean was going to have to pass.

“Of course dude, relax. Just a hypothetical situation.”

“Sounded a little sudden for a hypothetical situation.” Marco mumbled under his breath.

Neither of them spoke for a couple of minutes. Jean figured he might as well leave the situation of Marco dropping out of med-school alone, and he wanted to leave before he said anything more to make things worse.

“Was there anything else you wanted to talk about?” Jean buried his hands in his pockets.

“No, not in particular…"

“Alrighty.” Jean slowly turned after giving Marco a small smile. “Well I gotta get going, I’ll text you later yeah?”

“O-okay…”

With that, Jean left the park without looking over his shoulder. He had finally gotten what he wanted; that hollow feeling that had consumed him was now being replaced by a powerful ache that resonated in his chest. He could differentiate his own pain from Marco’s, and this was definitely his. It clung to him and grew stronger with every step he took away from the park.

Jean walked faster. Yeah he wanted to feel something, but he didn’t want to feel heartbreak. There wasn’t even a reason for it to be there; they hadn’t broken up–they weren’t dating in the first place–and no one was saying goodbye. Or at least, not yet. But it was there, and it was painful. He kept going because he hoped distance would make it better, but it only made things worse. He had to stop at the doorway to his apartment and lean against the brick with a hand pressed against his chest. Maybe the pain was finally starting to exceed its tolerable limit or maybe he was simply being dramatic, but it was enough to force him to sit on the concrete step and gather himself.

He didn’t want that to be their last conversation together. He didn’t want to have their shouting match on repeat in his head before he left; he didn’t want to have any more regrets.

He couldn’t forget Marco’s expression. He looked terrified when Jean had asked him that; just like that he had changed from mad to concerned as if Jean had hit a switch. Did he care about Jean that much to the point where not seeing him again would upset him that badly?

It was strange.

Jean hadn’t been aware that he was falling in love with Marco. He thought it was a casual friendship that had gotten somewhat out of hand on a drunken night, but that was it. Now it was starting to seem like these feelings meant something else. The reason why Marco’s pain could spread to him so easily.

“Now isn’t the time.” Jean groaned and pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the door.

“Please not now.”

But that was the way things worked.

Perhaps there was some natural order that made things happen when they did, or maybe not, but it happened nonetheless.

As Jean forced himself to his feet and pushed his way back into his apartment, he could only dread what would happen to him next.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day went surprisingly well. Nothing of conflict happened despite Jean’s worrying and constant pacing around his apartment. He was ready for something to happen; he was on his guard for anything. As soon as he let it down the next day, he got something he wasn’t prepared for. 

A couple of text messages from Marco came in around eight in the evening, and as Jean read through them he could tell they were drunken text messages. It started with him sending Jean a bunch of spam texts just saying his name, but once Jean responded their conversation seemed to jump all over the place.

With a tired sigh, Jean massaged his forehead as he tried to think of how to reply to another one of Marco’s ridiculous questions. He was a little worried about him, but Marco had said that he was with friends, and that should be enough shouldn’t it?

Of course it wasn’t.

Every time he asked Marco a question, Marco skipped around it and asked questions of his own. As the night progressed they began to get darker and more serious, signaling the climax of Jean’s worry. Marco’s messages were putting him in panic mode, and he didn’t understand why. He was just drunk, saying stupid and sad things…people did it all the time.

 

**> >>To: Freckles**

**Seriously Marco, where are you?**

 

**> >>From: Freckles**

**The question is…**

**where r u haha**

Jean let out an angry grumble and rolled his eyes. 

**> >>To: Freckles**

**I’m serious. You should take it easy**

**> >>From: Freckles**

**When did u turn into my dad**

**> >>To: Freckles**

**MARCO**

**> >>From: Freckles**

**U know, I was thinkin about what u asked me the other day**

Jean froze. He was getting ready to write out a long string of swears, but now his blood was running cold. He waited for Marco to continue, but it looked like he needed a push.

**> >>To: Freckles**

**What I asked you…?**

Marco’s response didn’t come until a few minutes later.

**> >>From: Freckles**

**Lol nevrmind.**

“Motherfucker.” Jean hissed to himself and hit the call button next to Marco’s name. He didn’t have the patience for Marco’s drunken bullshit, especially when he was starting to get a really bad feeling. And Jean had learned to trust those bad feelings.

The phone rang forever until Marco picked up. Jean was willing to call as many times as he needed to if he didn’t.

“Marco?” Jean jumped out of his seat and walked into the kitchen. “Marco what are you talking about?”

“ _I said never mind_!” Marco laughed back at him, but it was hard to hear. Jean had to focus on his voice among what sounded like dozens on top of blaring music in the background.

“Where are you?”

“ _Who knows_.” Marco replied nonchalantly.

“Marco cut it out, just tell me!”

“ _Let’s play a game_.” Marco said suddenly. “ _If you find me, I’ll tell you what you want to know_.”

“Marco please, I don’t play games!” Jean squeezed his eyes shut. “Why are you doing this?”

There were a few seconds of just idle chatter on the line, none of the voices belonging to Marco. Wherever he was, it was a club for sure, but that left at least four or more options in Trost.

“ _I was wondering if my parents would ever miss me if I just never came home_.” Marco’s voice changed. He sounded detached from the rest of the world when he spoke; Jean felt like he was going to throw up.

“Of course they would Marco, you’re their child.” Jean knew he couldn’t push his reassurance through the phone. His hands were shaking too much to hold the phone steady in the first place.

“ _I dunno…Yeah I’ll take another_.” Jean narrowed his eyes in confusion until he realized the last half of the sentence wasn’t directed to him.

“Stop drinking I’m coming to find you!” Jean was already at the door, sliding into his shoes. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“ _Haha too late_.”

Jean hung up just as Marco said the words, and it only made him move faster. He flew out the back door he rarely used, nearly missing the stairs as he rushed to the small space where he kept his car.

He hated driving.

If he had the time to check every lounge in Trost on foot, Jean would, but he knew now wasn’t the time for his preferences. When he found Marco–not if, when–he would have to drive him back considering he was probably already drunk out of his mind.

Jean could only thank himself for not selling his car when he had wanted to, because now it was coming in handy.

With a swift turn in the ignition, the car came to life with a loud purr, lighting up the interior with a dull blue light.

“Please be okay.” Jean said aloud to no one in particular as he whipped out of his spot and onto the busy Trost streets. His best option was to hit every club on the way, starting with the ones closer to him.

He pulled onto the street of the closest club and cut the engine, nearly throwing himself out of the car to run up to the door. He waved his ID at the bouncer without giving him much time to tell him whether he could go in; he slipped into the dark and made his way to the back.

The loud, ear-splitting music could be the same anywhere, but Jean could only hope this was the one. He scanned the crowd of dancing bodies before casting his gaze on the people seated in the booths. None of the faces illuminated by the alternating lights were who he wanted to see. With an annoyed grunt, Jean turned on his heels and pushed his way back out the door and darted to his car.

It was a game alright.

Weaving through Trost traffic on a Friday night in the nightlife district required strategy and patience Jean did not have; he wanted to smash every car off the road so he could at least get through one light without it changing on him. With every second that ticked by, Jean got more nervous, and every person that got in his way got added to the hit list.

He’d gone through four clubs already, and that only left one more possibility. If that was wrong, that had to mean Marco was in a bar, but Jean had never been in a bar that played its music that loudly–let alone dancing music. He just had to hope that his intuition was right on this; especially since the last place was far. It rested right on the edge of the city, one street away from being out of Trost’s boundaries and as far into the Stohess district as one could get.

It was packed on the street, as Jean expected, and he was forced to park a street over and sprint down the block to get to the doors. This one was nearly as fulll as the others tonight, but to Jean’s luck the bouncer let him in with a simple nod. It was the same mechanical pattern: scan the crowds, check the bar, look in the bathroom, make sure he wasn’t sitting somewhere. He watched a group stumble into the bathroom together, a drunk girl took a fall near the tables, and a guy puked on the table all in a matter of seconds.

_He has to be here._

“There’s nowhere else.” Jean whispered, but his voice was drowned out by the bass.

As he straightened up, preparing to leave and start his search at the bars, Jean caught a glimpse of someone knocking a pitcher of water over.

“Dammit Marco!” a voice shouted, but even that was barely loud enough to catch anyone’s attention. Jean latched onto the name and whipped around, his eyes landing on the table in the back. Although Marco wasn’t facing him, Jean took in the tousled hair and broad shoulders frantically until he was sure it was him. He squeezed his way to the table and put a firm hand on Marco’s shoulder.

“What the hell are you doing?” Jean growled at him. Marco looked up at him somewhat blankly, a smile forming on his face.

“You found me!” Marco clapped and offered him a beer. “Congrats.”

Jean slapped it out of his hand. It crashed onto the floor beside them.

“Stop fucking around Marco!”

“Hey man relax.” A hand touched his shoulder and Jean turned his head to glare at one of Marco’s friends. He took in Jean’s expression and automatically backed off, retracting his hand as if he had touched something hot. “Marco…do you know him?”

“Yeah it’s fine.” Marco frowned up at Jean.

“We’re going.” Jean told him and hoisted Marco up by the arm. “Now.”

Marco pulled back once he got to his feet.

“No I’m not. I’m having fun here.”

“Only because you’re drunk out of your damn mind.” Jean let go of Marco’s arm nonetheless and softened his gaze to the best of his ability. “Please, can we just talk outside?”

Marco glanced at his friends. They had all fallen silent since Jean had walked up, and they watched them with wide eyes.

“Okay fine.”

“Maybe we should get going soon too.” A girl Jean hadn’t noticed right away spoke up from the group, her eyes trained on Jean. He knew she was suspicious of him, he could tell from the way she looked at him. But Jean didn’t care, his priorities rested on Marco, and he helped him walk through the crowded lounge and out the back doors.

Marco stumbled a little on his feet as they stepped outside, but once he was grounded on the sidewalk he seemed to sober up a little. Jean could still see the faint flush in his cheeks and that raw emotion brewing in his eyes, but today it looked worse than before.

He didn’t speak to Jean right away; he buried his hands in his pockets and stared up at the gray sky, letting the wind toss his hair around his forehead as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Inside, Jean was seething.

“Do you have any idea how much you freaked me out?” he tried to keep his voice calm, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long. “I drove all over the city looking for you because you wanted to play this _game_ –”

“I scared you?” Marco interrupted him and quirked his eyebrow.

“Yes you fucking scared me Marco what the hell was that–” he was cut short again when Marco grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and pulled him closer. Marco’s face was devoid of humor and his eyes looked black in the dim light. If Jean hadn’t known Marco for as long as he did, he would have been terrified.

“Now you see what it feels like.” Marco whispered. Jean could smell the whiskey on his breath along with the scents that normally stuck to someone after they’d spent a while in a lounge; cigarette smoke clung to his shirt even though Jean knew Marco didn’t smoke, and there was still the faint hint of Marco’s cologne on him.

Jean was at a loss for words. He stared at Marco in mute shock as Marco let him go.

“You scared the shit out of me when you said that.” Marco glared back at him before he turned to watch the cars drive by. “I thought you were going to…I don’t know. I didn’t know what you were going to do. It doesn’t feel too great, does it?”

He did this because of what Jean had asked him that day? All of this panic, this frustration…was to teach him a lesson?

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me Marco!” Jean barked back. “It’s not the same thing! You’re drunk and out here on the outskirts of Trost fucking around for who knows why and you text me with all of this nonsense!”

Marco kept his eyes on the street, but Jean could see them narrow.

“You haven’t been yourself and I’ve been patient. I haven’t asked what happened to you, I won’t beg you to tell me, but you can’t pull this kind of shit on me okay? I fucking worry about you!” Jean had to bite the inside of his cheek to cut off the rest of his sentence. _You’re destroying yourself._

“You always act like I’m some kind of a child that can’t take care of himself.” Marco sighed before he turned to look at Jean again. “I know full well what I’m doing.”

Dozens of thoughts ran through Jean’s head as he stared him down on the sidewalk. Couples walked by, throwing them concerned glances as they passed, and Jean was starting to wish he had just stayed at home.

“Sometimes you don’t act like it.”

Marco sucked in a breath as if he were trying to calm himself down.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on!”

“What makes you think I want help?” Marco snapped back. “Jean, just go home okay? I’m fine, sorry you drove all the way out here, but you can go.”

“I brought my ass here and I am not leaving until you come back with me.”

“Then I guess you’ll be staying for a while.”

“Do you really want to play this game Marco?” Jean’s question was answered by a hiccup and an annoyed groan. It seemed he now only had half of Marco’s attention; the boy’s eyes were focusing on everything but Jean’s face.

“I’m not going home.” Marco shrugged.

“Then you’ll come home with me.”

“And repeat what happened last time?” Marco let out a gruff laugh that made Jean scowl. “Yeah sounds like a great fucking idea.”

“Marco please.” Jean lowered his voice to nearly a whisper. He was asking–begging–Marco to just use his brain and _stop_.

Marco walked past him and placed his hand on the door handle to go back inside.

Jean didn’t realize how fast he had done it, but he yanked Marco back into place so quickly that even Marco seemed confused on how he got there.

“I’m done playing nice.” Jean hissed. “And I’ve never liked playing babysitter.”

“Let go of me.” Marco demanded as Jean pulled him down the street. “Jean I’m serious!”

“And so am I, now shut up.”

Marco yanked them to a stop, and even Jean was surprised at his strength. Just as Marco opened his mouth to say something the club doors swung open and his friends came stumbling out.

“There he is.” One of them said and the group slowly approached them on the sidewalk.

“Marco, we’re getting ready to go…” the girl’s eyes went from Marco to Jean as she spoke. Her hand rested on Marco’s arm protectively. “Do you want me to drive you home?”

Marco kept his gaze on Jean.

“No I’m fine.” He said stiffly.

“Are you sure? I don’t think you should–”

“You guys should stop fighting out here, it’s not cool.” The guy that had touched Jean’s shoulder earlier had his scowl directed at Jean again. “You’re just tellin’ the world your business.”

Jean fought the urge to tell the guy to shut the hell up.

“I’m just trying to get him home.” Jean told them, but he didn’t soften his tone. He knew Marco’s friends were just looking out for him, but tonight was already dragging on longer than Jean had wanted it to. His shitty mood wouldn’t make things easier, but this was Marco’s fault in the first place.

“Well yelling won’t solve it.” The third friend stumbled closer to them and the girl had to use her hand to stabilize him. He was clearly drunker than the others, and the foggy, glazed over look in his eyes suggested he should have stopped drinking a long time ago. “Give ‘em a break man his brother just died!”

“Franz!” the girl hit him before throwing Marco a terrified look.

It felt like the world had stopped spinning. Everything froze as Jean stood among them, processing what was just said. His words felt like a slap in the face and Jean didn’t know how to react to it. His anger melted away and it left him suspended in emptiness as he stared at Marco.

_His brother…died?_

All of the pieces were clicking into place one by one, and Jean was starting to make sense of it. This resonating grief that seemed to have come so suddenly…

“If you say you’ll be okay…” the girl gave Marco a light pat as she turned away with the other two. “Call me when you get home!”

Marco didn’t reply or turn to watch them go.

His eyes were trained on Jean, and from his expression Jean could tell that Marco had given up. That was what he had been fighting to protect, and he no longer had that to stand on anymore. Jean doubted it was enough to keep him standing in the first place, and as relieved as he was that Marco wasn’t going to make this difficult anymore, it didn’t feel nice to win like this.

“I’m parked this way.” Jean said quietly and helped guide Marco down the block. They walked a few steps in silence, but Jean couldn’t hold it in any longer. “Why didn’t you tell me Marco?”

Marco remained silent. He chewed on his lower lip as they walked, and slowly but surely, Jean’s car came into view.

“I didn’t know you had a car.” Marco’s response made Jean think that he wasn’t going to address it. Despite that it was out in the open and floating around, he was still going to deny it.

“I-uh, yeah.” Jean unlocked the door and the two climbed inside. The dashboard told him that it was almost ten, and the moon was covered by the rain clouds that had been hovering over Trost all day. “Marco…”

“Before we go back I need you to take me somewhere.” Marco studied his hands as he spoke, he popped a few knuckles before stopping halfway through. “Please.”

Jean started the engine and pulled out into the street. He followed Marco’s directions as they were given, and it eventually led them to the city’s cemetery. Jean parked right outside the entrance and cut the engine.

He knew so many people who were buried there, yet Jean had never gotten the nerve to step foot inside of it. He hated the concept of cemeteries; all of these people buried underneath his feet gave him chills he wasn’t supposed to have.

As he was about to ask why Marco wanted him to stop here, Marco got out of the car and made his way to the gated entrance. Jean slowly followed, slipping his keys into his pocket as a drop of water hit his cheek.

The clouds were finally letting go of their burden with a soft drizzle overhead, but Marco paid no attention to it; he made his way down the concrete path and into the grass, following some inner navigation as if someone were leading him. Jean hesitated by the entrance for a few good seconds before taking a deep breath, stepping inside and tailing Marco through the lot. He avoided graves and remained on the path, his eyes on Marco as he walked.

They wove their way through the cemetery until finally, Marco came to a stop. Jean put a tentative foot in the grass and made his way over to where Marco stood, staring at the grave in front of him. The dirt was freshly dug and packed, and flowers decorated the new grave along with pictures and unlit candles. The name was carved in elegant letters.

_Gayle Bodt_

Jean joined Marco’s side and buried his hands in his pockets.

So this was Marco’s brother; he hadn’t been aware that Marco even had siblings…there was probably a lot to Marco that he didn’t know.

“It was today.” Marco said quietly. “…the funeral.”

“O-oh.”

“I didn’t go.” Marco balled his hands into fists at his sides and sniffed. “I couldn’t…I couldn’t go.”

Jean glanced at Marco with a frown. He thought he had gotten used to seeing Marco break down in front of him, but he was wrong. The aching throb behind Jean’s eyes intensified as he watched the tears gather in Marco’s eyes before spilling over, ultimately joining the falling rain that hit his face.

“Marco…”

“I couldn’t go to my own brother’s funeral.” Marco wiped the tears away and gave Jean a thin smile. “How pathetic is that?”

“It’s not pathetic.” Jean wished he knew how to console. He wished he could do something, _anything_ , to make him stop suffering. “It’s okay to hurt.”

“I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to admit it.” Marco bent down to pick at one of the flowers on the grave. “I didn’t want to believe it myself.”

“I’ve been there.” Jean said quietly. The rumble of thunder overhead signaled the beginning of the storm heading their way, and the rain was picking up.

“I should probably work on addressing things head on rather than avoiding them.” Marco sounded like he was talking more to himself than Jean. “Either way, I really can’t go home. My parents probably want nothing to do with me now.

“You know that’s not true.”

“But I don’t.” Marco looked over his shoulder towards something Jean couldn’t see. They stood in silence for a few minutes before Marco spoke again. “All I seem to do these days is let them down.”

Jean returned his gaze to the gravestone. Gayle had died too young; the dates told Jean that he was only five years younger than Marco. He was still a teenager, and in Jean’s eyes just a baby.

“Can I ask what happened?” Jean said slowly.

Marco shifted his weight on his feet and stared at the grave as if he expected something to move. He kept his eyes focused away from Jean, and Jean could see that he was gathering himself together.

“I’m not even really sure…all I got was a note that I never opened, and a call from the police saying they found my brother floating in the river.”

Marco’s blunt tone gave Jean goosebumps. So…it was a suicide?

Jean couldn’t piece together the information like he wanted to, and he figured it wasn’t his place to do so anyway. He had to be there to support Marco, not understand why things happened to good people. Jean could wrap around his mind the fact that humans died. He just couldn’t understand why people chose to end their lives early. It would never be his place to ask.

“We should get going before it gets worse.” Marco said quietly before walking away.

Jean gave the grave one last look before crossing the grass to return to the main path. Marco walked a few steps ahead of him, and Jean could see the heavy load on his shoulders.

“There’s someone else waiting for me here, but I’m not ready to see them yet.” Marco said. It made Jean shudder; what he said held a much more sinister meaning than he was sure Marco meant, but it nonetheless made Jean wary.

He wondered if now, Marco would finally come to terms to what happened. He figured this trip to the cemetery was more for Marco than for him, but to actually see the evidence in front of them solidified whatever proof they needed. Marco…must have been here before. Otherwise there would be no way he could easily lead him through the pathways to his brother’s grave. Marco must have endured, going with his parents to organize the funeral and pick out the plot, only to crack under pressure and hide from the final ceremony. No one could blame him for that. Jean could never see him as someone weak.

 

As they approached the gates to leave, Jean slowed to a stop. As soon as Marco noticed, he too stopped before taking a few steps back to Jean, his eyebrows pulled together.

“I need to tell you something.” Jean told him slowly, choosing his words carefully.

Jean watched a dozen emotions flicker across Marco’s face before he steeled it into something neutral. He owed it to Marco, the most concrete truth he could give a human being about him at least. He wanted to tell him everything; to spill his guts right there on the smooth white pavement and come clean so he wouldn’t have to lie anymore. If they could just go back and forth confessing until they had nothing left to hide and worry about…things would be easier. But it couldn’t be like that because Jean was a god, and Marco was a human.

“Yeah?” Marco asked warily.

“In all my years, you were the first person to ever come up and start a conversation like you knew me. Not only that, but you pulled me out of the street when I wasn’t paying attention and yelled at me to be more careful.”

“…I told you that was just fast acting–”

“Hang on, I’m not done.” Jean held up a finger and Marco’s expression grew more pained.

“After everything you still remembered who I was, you expressed such genuine concern for a stranger, and then you asked to be my friend. And for the first in a long time, you made me realize that having a friend is a great thing. Ever since I met you, I’ve been happy. Do you know how long it’s been since I was happy?”

He wasn’t expecting Marco to guess thirty odd years, and he certainly wasn’t expecting Marco to start crying again.

“Jean…why are you saying this?” Marco pressed his wrist to the corner of his eye to catch a tear before it fell.

“Because you need to know.” Jean smiled tenderly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been as close to someone as I’ve been with you. I like spending time with you, and seeing you makes me feel better. I only asked whether you would miss me or not because I was scared that maybe I liked you too much. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Marco blinked at him.

“It shouldn’t even be a question.” Marco didn’t hesitate in closing the distance and pulled Jean into a strong hug. Jean let the air get squeezed out of his lungs and held Marco closer. “Of course I would miss you.”

It was clear that gods were crossing the spectrum to being human. They were feeling emotions they weren’t supposed to have, picking up the quirks and tendencies of the mortals that surrounded them, and now they were starting to envy humans because it was a world the gods couldn’t have.

 

Jean felt guilt. He felt it heavily, every minute of every day; it wasn’t just because of Marco of course, he’d been hurting for centuries. Now he felt guilt for dragging someone into his cruel world of death and decay all for his sake of feeling full again. Jean had no doubt that he was responsible for Marco’s pain; he’s brother’s death easily rested on his hands. Calamity followed Jean wherever he went, and it spread to the people who dared to share the same space as him. Little by little, Jean’s presence would influence Marco’s life in ways that would hardly be considered positive.

Jean may not be able to feel empathy, but he could feel sadness. As he held Marco in his arms, there was nothing he wanted more than to tell him what he had done. He wanted to spill out his mistakes, his regrets, his failures; he wanted to start over with Marco and make better decisions. It was harsh reality that his world was different from Marco’s. He would never be able to cross that bridge and combine the two without some form of severe punishment, and Jean didn’t want that. He wanted to cry about it, to scream into the void until he had nothing left in him; in the end, there was nothing else he could do but have hopeless dreams.

“I’m scared that I ruined everything.” Marco’s voice was muffled against the collar of Jean’s shirt. He held on to Jean with everything he had, but after he spoke his grip loosened ever so slightly.

Jean knew what Marco was implying. He thought that he had ruined their relationship that night at the bar; Jean knew because he felt the same way. They had never truly spoken about what had happened, they went around the situation and pretended it never happened.

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Jean softened his voice and ran his hands through the soft baby hairs on the back of Marco’s neck. “We both did something we shouldn’t have done, so there’s no need to beat yourself up about it.”

Marco let out a long shaky sigh.

“I…I don’t want to lose you.” He tried to keep his voice firm, but Jean could hear it fall apart when he broke into a sob, “I’m tired of losing the people I care about!”

Jean pulled him tighter as the boy shook against him. The rain showered them relentlessly, soaking them to the core as they stood in the parking lot. With every wracking sob, Jean could feel the pain constricting his heart grow stronger until tears pricked his eyes.

“You won’t lose me.” Jean soothed him. “I’ll always be here when you need me.”

“But I–”

“No buts. It’ll always be us, Marco. We can sort out the details later.” Jean massaged his back in small circles until he stopped shaking. “It’ll be okay.”

He hoped that was enough to help Marco.

Jean’s words had more of a negative effect on himself than a positive one. He kept repeating the ‘what ifs’ in his mind as he tried to keep Marco together. He wanted it to be “us” and he wanted everything to be okay, he wanted that so badly, but Jean never got what he wanted. Things would only keep getting worse from here on out, and Jean didn’t want to know how bad things could get.

Jean didn’t want to let Marco go.

If it meant staying in the cemetery, suspended in time for eternity, pressed against the boy who had somehow wiggled his way into his heart, he would do it in a heartbeat. He would never get sick of the pressure against his chest, or the cold damp rain that clung to their clothes. As long as he didn’t have to go it was fine. He couldn’t leave Marco. Not like this; he was too broken and too tired to be left behind.

Jean knew that he needed Marco to stay afloat, and Marco needed him just as much. They had to stand as each other’s pillars without crumbling on their own, and now that was proving to be difficult. Maybe even impossible.

Jean wondered if love and dependence came hand-in-hand. He had spent this entire time believing that he needed Marco, and he was right, but now it was starting to feel like more than that. No, the world wouldn’t stop spinning if Marco was gone, but Jean would want it to. He needed to see and hold Marco to truly know that everything was going to be okay.

_I have to come back to him_.

Jean knew it was too late. He had sunk deep enough in the quicksand to know it was impossible to get out. He had fallen in love with a human, and that was going to bring about another series of pain; he had already been hurting, and he had convinced himself that he was fine with it, but now he had poisoned the one he loved.

He was sucking the happiness out of the one who deserved it most, and it was too late to tell him to run and save himself. Jean was in too far, and so was Marco. Both were beyond saving, and if one were to perish at this point so would the other. Jean had finally found his reason for returning; he no longer had just an empty apartment to come home to or a city to destroy, but a boy to love.

It was devastating.

Jean could understand why his friends were suffering. This was what it felt like to put something so important on the line; a gamble that wasn’t just for one person, but two. If Jean never came back, Marco would never know why. There would be no body, no story, no cover up…and what would happen to him?

“When I pulled you out of the street I thought you had a death wish.” Marco’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “And then I was worried that I’d never see you again, but I found you.”

“By coincidence.” Jean laughed.

“No. I looked.” Marco sighed. “I really did.”

Jean felt his heart tremor at Marco’s words. Had he actually invested that much time into Jean from the beginning? There was no way. Why would he even bother?

“You always thought I’d forget about you, but how would that be possible if I thought about you every day?” Marco slowly pulled back to look Jean in the eyes. “Ever since I met you, I’ve been happier too.”

Jean’s smile threatened to waver. _Until now_.

He believed what Marco said, despite how ridiculous he found it. Marco had no reason to find some interest in a guy who had wandered into the street on a rainy day in downtown Trost. It was kind of cliché, for one, and it probably happened very often in this city. Yet here they were, grounded together by some red string of fate Jean never remembered holding. It seemed like it was his job to stop his future from cutting it.

He wanted to be tethered to Marco; that he decided. Marco was worth the pain that came from loving a human being. If Jean made him happy, he would do his best to stay by Marco’s side and keep it that way; war was only a page in Jean’s story while Marco was the entire book. No more putting off the pain associated with the past, Jean was going to focus on the future. He knew what that entailed. He knew what he had to do. It was time for him to finally start opening the boxes.

By being around humans for so long, Jean was tempted to say the words _I love you_ despite the fact that he wasn’t entirely sure what love was. He felt that he loved Marco, in the most basic sense. To say that he loved him didn’t feel quite right though, and he wasn’t sure why. Perhaps it was because he knew that by simply saying those words wouldn’t ease Marco’s pain, and maybe it just wasn’t something to be said at the moment. There were a lot of things Jean wanted to say but couldn’t, and it seemed that was the way it was going to have to be.

“Ready to go home?” he didn’t bother to elaborate that he meant his apartment; Marco knew. He nodded, taking one more wipe at his eyes before pushing his wet hair back with his hand. They were soaked to the core now, thanks to their long embrace, and it made Jean think about that first day. Of course, the circumstances had become darker, and this was a storm Jean had not caused directly…yet in a way it still felt like a storm he had caused nonetheless.

As lightning lit up the black sky while they made the long drive back, Jean could only wonder if things would get better from here.

Or maybe, this storm was just an omen for what would happen next.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhh sorry for the longish hiatus there! We’ve been busy with our other Jeanmarco story and this took the backburner for a while. This summer will be pretty busy for me, so I can’t promise when the next chapter will be up, but at the very latest it could be up at the end of July, possibly sooner if I have time. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter!  
> ^^^  
> I also deeply apologize for how late this is!! We were writing our other JeanMarco fic and everything just got crazy...this chapter has actually been written for a while but I kept finding issues with it and rewrote it over and over again...hopefully this is okay? Thank you guys for being patient, we really appreciate your support! If you haven't already, read our other JeanMarco fic! It's basically done aside from the epilogue (whew what a ride...).

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed the first chapter of this! We probably should’ve ended our first fanfic before starting this one but….anyway thank you for reading this, and stick around for more adventures. And gee, I wonder who that savior could be? Maybe a certain freckle faced person? Also, some of these chapters will be from other character’s POVs and will be their backgrounds, or how they came to meet their significant other. And, I, the editor, will be writing at least one of these chapters, so look forward to it! If you’re curious about our other story, check out ‘Only Time Will Tell’.


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